


My Love Has Concrete Feet

by ChildofStorms



Category: Mr. and Mrs. Smith (2005), Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Agents, Bad Decisions, Bad reactions, Communication Failure, Espionage, Lack of Communication, M/M, Marriage, Marriage Counseling, Mr. and Mrs. Smith - Freeform, Secret Identity, Secrets, Sex, Sheith Month 2018, Spies, Spies & Secret Agents, but still valid, for the love of god people, relationships based on lies, remember this is why couples need to talk, shoot later, spy husbands, talk first
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-17
Updated: 2018-12-13
Packaged: 2019-06-11 21:29:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 31
Words: 36,967
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15324741
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChildofStorms/pseuds/ChildofStorms
Summary: After almost six years of marriage, you'd expect an easy, happy life. Unfortunately for Shiro and Keith, they were used to disappointments and hardships. They may know how to roll with it, how to get back up and continue fighting against the odds, but watching their marriage fail? That's a problem they just can't figure out how to fix.Or, the Mr. and Mr. Smith AU nobody asked for.





	1. Dynamics/Trust

**Author's Note:**

> I am very very late, and I will probably continue that. I'm currently in a huge program right now, and I really only get like 5-6 hours of free time, not including homework. My goal is to have a big chunk done by the end of the month, hopefully most of it. I just want to warn you ahead of time. But thank you for reading! I'm so excited to share this!

“Marriage is not a competition, marriage is completion of two souls.”

-Abhijit Naskar

 

December 14th, 2011  
6:27 pm.

 

“Look, just, don’t attack him, okay? That’s all I’m asking for right now.” 

Lance rolled his eyes, then moved his legs to rest one on the other. The other’s face was a free-for-all, a public theater in its own right, and Shiro watched in amusement as what seemed like all five stages of grief flashed by before he tossed his head back with a groan.

“Fine, fine. But I’m not going to excuse him being almost thirty minutes late.”

“I get it, we were the ones who invited you all, too— but he had a client who called in last minute. He should be here any moment.”

It wasn’t every day that Shiro managed to wrestle three coworkers, his boss, and said boss’s assistant into a place besides the suite floor that housed their organization, and honestly he found himself lucky that it was only Lance questioning the absence of Shiro’s guest. 

At least he didn’t have to keep them busy, what with Hunk and Pidge crouched over a shared tablet screen doing God knows what to occupy themselves. Even Allura and Coran were keeping each other entertained, though the occasional glance at the clock and then to Shiro alerted him to just how inconvenient the situation itself was. Shiro hated admitting that this was not the best precursor to the actual announcement.

Lance moved then towards the veggie platter Shiro had left in the employee fridge during work. It was a bit on the wilted side, sitting out so long now, but if no one complained then Shiro was fine to leave it as it was. It was sad though, just that little platter. With nothing around it.

“Look, maybe this is a sign? It’s hard enough having friendships and commitments outside of the team to begin with, especially with how busy we are. Maybe expanding friend groups isn’t in the cards right now.”

Shiro sighed, and the room quieting made him realize he had an audience. “You guys have only met him once, a year ago. We’ve grown closer since. I really would like you to at least try and do the same.”

From her chair, Pidge moved to rest her chin on the tablet’s rim. “Why do I feel like there’s some addendums to that.”

Allura perked up at that, her head darting to look from Pidge to Shiro. “Do you think he may be a potential hire-on?” 

Lance snorted then choked on the carrot he was chewing, his eyes reddening as he tried to speak “Aren’t there enough of us? I feel like there’s enough of us.”

"Well, if we didn’t bring him in, you know our career choices don’t exactly breed trust and honesty.” Hunk joined in, his eyebrow lifting as he watched Lance struggle.

The group continued, following the same cycle of ideas and concerns, and Shiro decided it was best to just stand there. It was the better decision, he thought, when they almost all but forgot him and instead focused on one another.

It took a few minutes, but it was like Allura had trained herself to sniff out any time her agents felt at ease because as soon as Shiro let himself relax and instead just focus on the missing member of their group, her gaze flashed towards him. He hid a shudder, feeling like he just found himself caught doing what he wasn’t supposed to.

“Shiro, I think I agree with our team. We can try and be friendly, but it’s not going to be easy hiding the fact that we are a task force organization.”

Lance added in as Allura finished, his eyes wide, “Exactly!”

Shiro groaned before moving to push his bangs from his face, “Look, it honestly may be a little too late for this, but—.”

The room went silent as a figure rounded the corner of the break room, his narrowed eyes moving around to each of their faces before settling on Shiro’s. Shiro wondered if the clockwork smiles that appeared at the same time on both of their faces was sickeningly sweet to the others, he wondered if Allura was already looking at how to decrease collateral damage when Shiro embraced the man who somehow managed to not be out of breath. He wondered if he was now the poster child of unnecessary risks.

“Everyone, you remember Keith, right?”

Keith smiled, one side quirked as if he found the entire situation overwhelming, “Sorry for being late, I swear my client was killer.”

A soft murmur of greeting followed by Allura rising to shake Keith’s hand filled the first awkward moments, and as the room seemed to calm he looked down to catch Keith’s gaze. The other’s eyebrows rose as Shiro titled his gaze down to their interlocked hands before nodding his head to the others. He didn’t dare look at them, instead only watching how busy Keith’s face looked as he levied the idea of telling everyone now.

Keith eyes refocused on Shiro’s, and he felt such a tight warmth in his chest with the amount of trust that was there. He leaned down to Keith’s ear, his fingers curling around the waist that tucked against his so perfectly.

“We don’t have to, it’s whenever you're ready as well, not just me.”

A small laugh, then a hand that came to rest on his own.

“I’m ready when you are.”

Shiro moved back then, giving one last smile to the man before him before turning back to his team. He knew after their discussion before Keith had walked in that this wasn’t going to exactly be the smoothest response, but having a warm body against his side was more motivation than Shiro even needed to continue.

He cleared his throat, sending a glance to Allura whose eyes widened in realization, “Despite the slight time inconvenience, we both are happy that everyone is here. I know you’ve only met Keith once before, but we’ve known each other for almost two years now.”

He looked down just as Keith glanced up at him, and Shiro couldn’t help but smile, “We’ve been dating for more than a year of that, and we decided we wanted to become more.”

He was glad Lance didn’t have any food in his mouth, or that Pidge had set the tablet down when Keith had arrived. He was fairly sure she would have snapped it in half with how she gripped the table. Hunk had the same disbelief that saturated his face like Allura, and despite knowing the amount of yelling and complaining he would face later, he realized that moving into a marriage with Keith outweighed whatever would come.

He did feel bad though, when he looked to Coran only to see the man staring down at the table with a blank expression.

“We wanted to invite you to our wedding this upcoming summer, informally.”

He was pretty sure the poster of unnecessary risks would be laminated, he was downright certain his team would make sure of it.


	2. Training/ Headaches

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A glimpse of a past, a bit of a character dive into who Keith Kogane was. Also, if you guys ever want to come say hi on Tumblr, my username is @thechildofstorms! I'd love to hear from you guys, there or here!

“Marriage is but a consolidation of resources.”

-Bangambiki Habyarimana

 

Spring of 2003  
Date Classified 

Being sixteen years old, Keith did not put much thought into the idea of dying. He thought about suffering, of the tilted environment that made a stage beneath his feet. Some nights, he’d even recall the dull thumping thuds that molded him into something unrecognizable when he’d stood before his father’s grave. 

Maybe once, or twice, he’d wondered how it’d be if he simply stopped. His father’s voice was too strong though, whenever those ideas came wandering into his mind. He found it was best to tear them apart instead and pretend that they didn’t have brothers and sisters approaching that outnumbered even the stars in the sky.

Now, though, they came back with a vengeance. Crawling along the screams of the corner-girl who was younger than him, his voice shrill when she begged the man pinning Keith down to not hurt him. He felt spit hit his flushed cheeks as he answered back, his words silencing her, but no matter how hard Keith tried he couldn’t make sense of it over the ricocheting thumps in his chest.

When the blade touched his neck, he saw the finer moments around him.

He felt the rough brush of calloused fingers against his neck, the knee that dug next to his spine and under the bottom of his ribs. He felt the crumbled pavement below him, the gravel that pushed into his chin and palms of his hands.

He heard the sound of footsteps, a choked gargle of a stuttered sigh from above before the weight fell against his legs. 

He heard the girl scream, cussing, before fading into the distance.

At the time, he had been thankful.

He had been hopeful when a second figure joined the first.

The two whispered amongst themselves, leaving Keith to pick himself up. He did so with little grace, stumbling over himself as his heels clicked against each other. He felt lucky that the curb was only a few steps away, and he sank down with a small inhale to hide the pain. It was easy to focus them on the bruising he could feel forming, of how the curve of his spine felt as if it would snap with each breath. 

He missed the figures approaching, only catching it when he felt a hand on his back while the other knelt before him.

“What’s your name?”

He didn’t answer, even as the grip tightened, and after repeating it again with no response, Keith was only given a sigh before the man continued.

“Did you know who that was?” The hand behind him pushed until he was angled towards the body barely ten feet away, the blood already following the dips and cracks of asphalt. “Did you know him?” The hand tightened, on the brink of painful.

Keith gasped, twisting from the grip. “No, I- I just wanted to help.”

“So you decided to help that girl just to be nice.” The voice behind him, low and somber, made his entire body twitch in a partial shudder. The shudder almost deepened, when Keith realized the amount of disbelief that shaded it.

He watched as the one kneeling reached for the knife at his belt, his coat just covering the edge of the hilt before his hand had reached for it, and without thinking Keith tried to jerk away.

“Look, I see her almost every day, walking to school and everything.” The blade was unsheathed, “She was always bruised, she always flinched if you surprised her!” The hand behind him wouldn’t let him move, “I couldn’t just let him continue hurting her!”

The knife poised below his sternum, against the softness just below his ribs, caused him to freeze, and he wondered if anything he could say would be convincing enough. He wondered if this was when the stage itself would finally collapse underneath him and leave nothing below. For too long, he rested on the point of that knife, not knowing if there was even an option where he could fall away from the danger it poised, if there was even anything he could say that would reach these two.

It felt so sudden when the tip moved away, but he didn’t register it until the man slid it back into its sheath. He rose, the hand on his back was joined with a second as he was forced to his feet, and Keith made himself stay silent as the two led him through the back alley until he stood before a car that had no place in the poverty stricken area that Keith called home.

Soon, Keith found himself from standing before the vehicle, to watching the two men from the back seat, his wrists tied against the door handle. He wondered if they’d stab him if they heard him trying to pull free, he decided not to test that. 

The silence was dotted with eyes that met his gaze from the rearview mirror, the eyes and face too shadowed to make out fine details, but he was sure they were watching. He could piece together that one was much more slim and compact than the other, taller but without the shoulder muscles the other possessed. It was the broader one that had held the knife to him, and he wondered how strong the other be if he was even more muscular. He decided to call the taller one Handsy, the shorter Prick. He’d laugh if it wasn’t for the fact that he no longer recognized the streets around him.

It blurred after that, Keith wondered if it was with burning out any adrenaline he had left in his veins, but quicker than he liked he found himself before a third man. His uncovered face was strong-jawed and solemn, a near apathetic look in his eye that filled Keith with more dread than the dagger.

The man nodded to the two behind Keith, and after the door clicked shut he found himself facing the knowledge that he was now alone with a man who would have no qualms about finishing what the others had started.

“Sit.” The man moved to do the same, and after he settled he only raised an eyebrow when Keith had not followed the demand. “If I wanted you dead, you wouldn’t be here now. I would have approved the decision of treating you as collateral damage in that alley.”

“Do you treat everyone with good intentions as collateral?” Keith’s voice didn’t emerge as strong as he wanted, but he hoped it was enough to cover tremors beneath his skin. He sat though, with only a wooden desk between him and the other.

The man only smiled, “Not even good intentions can ensure immunity.”

Keith didn’t know how to reply them, the demand of knowing why he wasn’t dead as well reshaped on his tongue without any sign of solidifying until he thought it would be better to stay silent. The man seemed to take it in stride, only moving to push a tablet towards Keith.

“We do when we see potential.”

It was him, the girl behind him and the now dead man in front. Keith watched as the pixelated version of himself wrapped his arm around the fist thrown at him, twisting until the man fell to his knee. He saw the girl hit him, he remembered how she had demanded him to stop, to not ruin it all. The man punch his knee cap back then, pixelated Keith dropped. He remembered the chokehold then, the knife against his throat. It cut off as he saw shadows approaching.

“When we seek new agents, we don’t just want skill. We need to make sure that they’d do anything to put down people that him.” the man pulled the tablet back, placing it below the desk before refocusing on Keith.

“Simply put, I have been in charge of a branch of a task force that hunts down men worse than pimps and drunks. We clean out the ones who control men like the one you fought today.”

“And then you kill anyone who sees.” The man frowned as Keith spoke, but he couldn’t find it in himself to allow the response to cause more shaking and fear. “You watch, then step in, wouldn’t it have just been better for him to kill me first and then go after him once he was finished?” 

The man responded, his voice dry with sarcasm, “Did you want us to?” He didn’t wait for Keith to answer, “My agents saw you go against someone with more muscle and a weapon. They reported that to me.”

A alert sounded from where the man had placed the tablet, and after looking down to whatever was on the screen, he rose from his chair until he towered over Keith.

“Keith Kogane, age 16. Mother, deceased. Father, deceased. State ward and occupant of Bayside Children’s Home. The Blade has found you suitable for a probationary period as one of our agents. We’ll give you a place to belong, we’ll give you a home. We’ll give you more chances to hunt for men and women that the world would be better without.”

He held his hand out, and even though a small doubt surfaced, warning Keith that he really didn’t have an option to refuse, he focused on the scent of new blood and purpose. He thought, that maybe the man’s smile looked briefly warmer as Keith slotted his hand against the other’s, but it was gone too quickly to make certain of it.

The man let go, and Keith leaned back as the tension leeched away from his body. He almost missed the next words, but after they registered he was glad that he hadn’t.

“I am Kolivan, the coordinator between the Blades and Galra headquarters and the leader of our branch. Within the next few months, I will see to it that you become a part of our family here.”

Keith felt frozen at the mention of family, of even having somewhere to belong. He wondered if that was enough coercion, if it made him weak enough to desire it enough to agree to something like this. 

“Remember, from now on, your most trusted resource will be yourself. Your fellows blades will be your second.”


	3. Sandwich/Drinking

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I am mass posting in groups of three to catch up, so make sure you haven't missed a chapter!

“Relationship math suggests that it is rare for two people to enter marriage and one person is to blame for everything that goes wrong.”

-Johnnie Dent Jr.

Bogotá, Columbia  
August 21st, 2009  
3:27 p.m.

Throughout his training, everyone had given specific advise on what not to do. Some had gone further and given lists of alternatives when shit hit the fan and then even when the fan itself broke when you'd think nothing else could go south. Ulaz called it a back-up for a back-up, a bit of a cushion in case you started on point A and then found yourself with whiplash and halfway down the alphabet.

Ulaz had been serious when he gave him all of that advise, Keith was fairly sure he’d done it to help ease a new trainee into the program, but Thace treated it a bit more like a joke. 

“Just remember, everything gets fucked up one way or another. Sometimes not even plans can get you out of a hole. That's when dumb luck and fast reflexes come in.”

Keith found himself in more of a chasm than a hole at the moment. Deep enough that he couldn’t tell which way was up really, even with all the intel and map memorization that he drilled into himself before being dropped off in the middle of a hot zone. 

It was a good thing he was fast though, a good thing that the crowds were dense and that the roads of Bogotá were bent and twisted in their design because he’d already heard a silencer go off once and he was not keen on letting it happen again.

He took a sharp turn, almost running into a market cart, and when he saw the hats paraded right before him along with long cardigans.

It took only a couple minutes, but it was still enough to make his skin crawl and for an ache in his stomach to form. It was worth it though, as he drifted through a crowd with tourists wearing similar clothes, and sometimes plans could always find use for addendums. 

He moved with the group for some time, refusing to let himself check if anyone had caught up from behind, before he looked up to see the same street sign for a third time. Right next to the same pub with the same oddly detailed birds carved into the woodwork. He couldn’t see much inside the open windows, maybe only a person or two, and so without another moment of doubt he turned away from the group. He made it almost to the door, his hands beginning to push it open, when he heard a call from behind him.

The voice was similar to the one that had caught him earlier, and without thinking he continued, fighting back the need to increase his footsteps and speed. A small voice, so similar to Antok, told him to walk like he didn’t have warning signs and guilt dyed into his skin. 

He wasn’t sure if that’d save him once he was taken in and questioned.

He wasn’t—

The voices still sounded behind him, but he couldn’t tell if it was the sudden hit of cooler air from the ceiling fans or curious eyes looking back at him that caused him to stop.

Or if it was the sudden hand that gripped near his shoulder, he heard the man demanding answers, but for the life of him he couldn’t look away from his sudden audience. 

Ulaz always did say to have multiple plans, now he had to learn how to make them while compromised. He sent a pleading look to the other then, eyes widening more than they probably already were, and as Keith turned to confront the officer he could see the realization sink in with the other man.

“No hablo Español?”

This was one part he hated, pretending he couldn’t when he could. The other part was playing a damsel. Keith prepared himself for letting the tension ease away the moment it would arise, to make it look natural like he knew who his savior even was. He convinced himself he was ready for strange hands and the aftermath of convincing the stranger than no, he wasn’t interested and no, he didn't need their help anymore.

It didn’t prepare him for how the hand never traveled lower than his shoulder blades, the warmth too comforting to the point of being disarming. He didn't expect that somehow his voice went so well with everything else about him, how it seemed so patient even as the officer's voice rose. 

He wondered if it was the awe in his eyes that convinced the officer that they did, in fact, know one another. 

As the officer left, he stayed a moment longer than needed with someone too far in his personal space, and he could only wonder if this half-assed plan had really saved him, or if it had landed him even farther up the creek.

The hand tightened along the curve of his shoulder, bringing Keith out of his thoughts and to the last part of whatever the other was saying. He moved back then, taking in the other. Somehow he managed to wear long-sleeves in the humidity around them, but Keith couldn’t find any reason why it didn’t work. Even without skin showing, even without the bare forearms that made men like this so hard to look away from, this person could command all attention in the room.

When the stranger tried again, and Keith made sure his brain latched onto each word this time, “Are you okay? Do you need to sit down?”

Already on his first mission, and he managed to get distracted by not only the hottest man, but also the one with the most perfect look of concern on his face. Keith didn’t blame himself when he stuttered out an agreement, and he certainly didn’t argue with the idea of laying low here in this bar with his rescuer for more time than was really necessary.

He already had the information required, it wouldn’t hurt to get something out of this mission that he wanted, and as the man talked with small laughs interjecting every so often, when he smiled with his hand curling against Keith’s.

“Well Keith, call me Shiro.” 

When Keith only smiled with that and let the bartender slide another shot glass before him, he let a small inkling form, just enough to wonder, if this was something that would only stay here on the mission or if maybe he would find a chance to make it into more.


	4. Free Day (Wedding)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is part of a mass update, please make sure you didn't miss anything!
> 
> Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoy it!

“I thought there was no use for me in reading Sun Tzu and Machiavelli because I am neither a warrior not a politician, but it turned out to be useful when I married.”

-Bangambiki Habyariman

Location redacted  
May 30th, 2012

The one thing that Shiro regretted was seeing how divided their wedding guests were. Sure, it was to be expected with two different families and groups of friends coming together, but seeing the invisible lines and the awkward faces of those brave enough to cross them made Shiro want to take his tie in hand and crumble it into a ball until all his stress filled it.

At least Keith’s parents tried with their talking, same with some of his former friends from the military. At least he didn’t have to worry about one of the audience members waiting for the right moment to pull out a concealed firearm and shooting him point blank. 

He wondered if Keith felt the tension.

The night after they’d announced their engagement to the Voltron team almost led to this never happening. Keith didn’t storm out, he didn’t really say anything at all when he realized the faces before him where more unhappy than pleased with the news. He gave Shiro's team exactly fifteen minutes, a time that Shiro would never be able to describe as anything more than awkward and painful, before excusing himself for the night.

Shiro left with him, and as the two walked towards Keith’s car, and as he paused to lean against the door's frame, Shiro felt a sharp and freezing thought that maybe Keith was about to return the ring on his hand.

It took him a brief moment to begin talking, and Shiro let fear keep him silent until Keith was ready. "I, I thought it would have gone smoother."

Shiro didn't look at him as he nodded, "Me too. I didn't think there would be any problems."

He really hadn't, or maybe he had convinced himself there wouldn't be, but the more Shiro thought of it the more he realized that passively hiding a relationship from a team that he not only designated missions to, but then relied on to keep himself alive maybe not have been the best idea.

Damnit, he felt like an idiot, and watching Keith's eyes flicker to everything but him made it worse.

“Just, I’m not someone who comes in and messes up a person’s life and their relationships, Shiro.” Another blow, and Shiro felt hollow.

“You aren’t going to. They’ll come around eventually.” Keith gave him a side-eye with that, his brow almost disappearing amongst his bangs.

They didn’t talk more after that. He wondered if they should have, if he should have spent more time convincing the team that Keith was there to stay, that more attempts to spend time and get to know him was something that they needed to do. 

From the other side of the reception, they didn’t seem to be full of fire and fury. He could see Pidge laughing and Lance leaning against her. 

Leaning against her as he slammed back a champagne flute.

Fuck. 

Allura looked up at him then, and Shiro found that he was glad for the distance.

An arm wove under his, fingers caressing his wrist before interlocking with his own. It didn’t take much for Shiro to turn his eyes away and instead focus on the man he could now call husband.

Keith looked worried, his other hand fiddled with the silverware, but his attention was completely on him and Shiro found that it was enough to chase away any dread of the faces watching him from across the room.

He’d made his choice.

He’d made it when he joined the Air Force, when he knew it had more of a pull than simply going to college like the rest of his childhood friends. Like what his parents expected him to do. He’d made it when a burst of shattered glass and metal shrapnel had torn meat from bone, when he’d woken up in the nearest E.R. with a notice of inbound honorable discharge. He’d made it when he met Allura for the first time, when Voltron offered a new extension to his life instead of the dead end he found himself in.

He made it when he saw wide eyes begging for help, when those said eyes focused only on him until everything else around them dissipated and fell stagnate.

He hoped that someday Allura and the others would see the Keith that promised to always love him, he really did. Thinking about when it might happen wasn’t the most important thing at the time, though. Not with a smile pushed into his shoulder, or the lights around them when the ball floor cleared to watch the couple’s first dance. 

Until then, he’d be grateful they even tried. 

But seeing them, seeing Coran’s frown that seemed to almost replicate itself on the other’s faces, it made him wonder how all of this could possibly go wrong. He wondered if he was someone that could give Keith everything that he deserved and more.


	5. Guiding Light/ Galaxies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yes, Shiro, you can't escape the bug zapper light. Not saying that Keith is a bug zapper, but it's a fairly similar parallel.
> 
> Just a reminder, I am doing mass updates to finish this before July is over. Please make sure you didn't miss a chapter on accident!

“A kiss a day keeps your wife’s wrath away.”

-Matshona Dhilwayo

Santa Monica, CA  
January 12th, 2010

It took a while, to not only find a time to meet, but to even use the phone number Keith had left behind at Bogotá. 

In hindsight, having an ex-military turned secret agent staring forlornly at a scrap of paper must have been a funny sight. If anyone had watched the five different times he typed in the number into his phone before deleting it, they would have staged an intervention. He was certain it caused at least somewhat of a sight, which was why he had waited almost three hours after leaving the Voltron’s headquarters. It was why he waited until after dinner to convince himself that he should, that someone like him could call back a relatively attracted man.

The same man who gave enough vibes that he thought Shiro was worth it as well. 

He was so very glad that it was only him in the room, but it was almost to the point where he was beginning to make out faces amongst inanimate objects. When he had realized that, it didn’t take long for him to follow through with a quick message.

The first three months was spent with enough texts that would have broken Shiro’s bank account if he didn’t have unlimited service on his phone plan. He hoped that Keith could say the same, but the other never complained about the late night conversations. It jumped to videos after, quick facetime breaks that soon morphed into hours of them simply keeping the other on in the background. Shiro liked it that way, how they could both pretend that movie nights were spent on the same couch.

It wasn’t until mid-December though, almost four months after meeting Keith, that he asked where the other lived. He shut his laptop screen down in shock at the answer, and in doing so cancelled the facetime session. Shiro scrambled after that, his face on the camera screen shined bright red. 

Keith only laughed at it, “Why, you bothered that much that I’m from California?”

Shiro tried to stutter out, “Monica, the Santa—Santa Monica? Are you serious?”

Keith frowned, “Yes, I didn’t realize that was bad. Shiro, wha—.”

He interrupted the other with a laugh that toed the line of being more of a squeal, and pushed his bangs back from his face, “I just wished I asked sooner, Babe. I live about fifteen streets away from the ocean, in one of those tucked in residential areas. God, I can’t believe this.”

Keith had demanded a date not a moment after, stating that he’d see Shiro in person within the next week or he’d hunt him down himself. 

Shiro didn’t have a single reason to say no, not with any social life or any missions planned within that time. He wouldn’t have said no even if he did, but he still made sure Allura knew he had plans that following Wednesday, that he’d be leaving for a slightly longer lunch break, and after a brief look of confusion she’d agreed.

It took only a minute to find Keith amongst the crowded café, another to reach him.

His smile was so different yet the same without having a screen between them, and Shiro felt each tingle and raise of his skin every time Keith brushed against him. 

It had only been a few months, he knew something like this would never fit perfectly into a life like his own. Not after watching former allies betray them so recently, not after having to assume a leadership role he still felt unprepared for.

He thought that maybe this was selfish, stealing afternoons and nights from this man, and now even stealing other parts of the day as well.

He wondered if he should end it at this.

But Keith, with that smile and a quick hug broke it. He managed to not only freeze Shiro’s thoughts, but then he rewrote it, and Shiro realized that he didn’t even care that Keith had done so.

“Can we do this again, maybe this weekend?”

It was so easy to pull him back into another hug, to keep his hand on Keith’s shoulder, to simply focus on the gravity that was Keith. It always awed him, how simply thinking of the other guided him inwards, how being here with the other against his side made him never want to leave.

“How can I say no to that.”


	6. Pre-Kerberos/Post-Voltron

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oh Shiro, how wrong you are.
> 
> Just a reminder, I am mass posting. today's mass update is 6-8.
> 
> Sorry for all the background info dump, I just really think it's best suited for now. So, just a recap, Keith joined Marmora when he was 16 in 2003 after almost getting caught up in collateral damage. Shiro joined Voltron in 2005 after an accident in the Air Force took his arm and he was honorably discharged. Both went through quite a bit of training before meeting in 2009.

“You don’t just marry your partner, you also marry their pain—body—and your spouse marries yours.”  
-Eckhart Tolle

March, 2005  
Voltron West Coast Headquarters

Meeting strange men at bars wasn’t exactly a thing Shiro ever thought would happen to him, but there he was sitting in a too small booth with a ginger haired man with a mustache that was without doubt one of the most well-groomed pieces of facial hair Shiro had ever seen. 

Having the said man read off each and every one of his achievements, starting from his time in high school until leaving the air force was another. The man had only smiled as Shiro stared at him with no control over how low his jaw was dropping and eyes that refused to blink, and Shiro could only remember the light laugh as he placed a business card between them.

“I do hope you’d consider, there’s a time and location there for you.”

Shiro didn’t like getting his hopes up, not with a honorable discharge that gave him almost nothing in comparison to what he lost. Not when he still had friends and family who would not even pick up a phone call from him or answer a text stating that he was dying and needed help. He knew, though, that he sometimes couldn’t control the whisper of the feeling, though. That need to trust again, to rely on and hope that maybe, this time, he wouldn’t be let down.

It was that hope that made him keep the card.

A few days later, he didn’t know if he was disappointed with himself or not as he stood with in the middle of a office lobby with eyes trying to catch any glimpse of the orange hair or upbeat attitude at the location given. he found no success in that, and with heavy steps he went with the next option. 

The front desk attendee didn’t bother to look at him, only pointing towards the nearest door before returning to her typing, and if he thought this was all a bad decision before than Shiro was now convinced that he should have torn that business card and left it at the bar.

“Ah, Mr. Shirogane. I’m glad you decided to accept my invitation.” And there it was, that same voice that managed to get him all the way here with almost no persuasion, now behind him like Shiro had simply missed it during his first sweep of the room.

Shiro turned, ready with a smile that he hoped didn't look as forced as it felt, “Well, it did seem like an interesting offer, Mr?”

The man smiled, “Just Coran, if you would. We encourage our workers to leave their last names at the door, so to speak.”

Well, there was another warning bell, one that Shiro couldn’t shake loose as Coran led him farther down the hallways. The building itself was more on the new side than the old, some doors were open while others stayed shut, and despite it looking like any other office he’d ever stepped foot it, Shiro could not help but become fixated on every little noise and object that caught his attention. 

It’d been so long since he’d been so hyperaware without feeling like it wasn’t for a reason, like it was his mind playing tricks on him, because with each twist and turn down the walkway he felt the hairs on his next raise as if he was being watched.

Soon, Coran slowed down his steps, just barely stopping before turning to look at Shiro, “Now, my superior is hoping that you’ll be interested in our offer. We are willing to meet any need that you may face,” he looked down at that, his eyes glancing over his left sleeve that should have been as filled out as his left. “We at Voltron Corp value our agents as if they were family. If you join us, if you accept what my boss is about to offer, then I can promise you that.” he finished with a small gesture to Shiro's arm. 

Shiro forced himself to nod, the muscles and tendons melded together from the sincerity Coran showed, and with a light gesture towards the door, Shiro took ahold of the handle and marched himself inside.

He didn’t realize at the time, but the man and the woman before him would become everything that Shiro found lacking in his life. To the point that his pledge to the father would survive to carry on with his daughter. He would have no reason to refuse giving everything to them, anything to the one who could raise him from the bitter and lonely man that he had almost become.

And he was sure there’d be no other that could change him as much as Voltron and its leaders did.


	7. Royalty/Clones

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just a reminder, I am mass posting. today's mass update is 6-8.

“I usually feel there is too much effort on the part of one spouse to convert the other spouse.”  
-Milton Erickson

July 13th 2012  
Santa Monica, CA

When Shiro had told him that his friends offered to help them move into the two story house that was could almost be considered a mini mansion, Keith was fairly sure someone was making him into the punchline of a particularly shitty joke. 

It took a few hours for it to disappear, but it didn’t really change until he saw Hunk carrying a suitcase that happened to house two hidden compartments with his knives and a small firearm.

Thinking it was all a joke didn’t seem as important after that.

The unloading of boxes and setting up the furniture was a good distraction, though. That and the consistent thought that these civilian friends of his civilian husband would have to spend the better part of an afternoon trying to figure out the difference been a regular handgun and a semiautomatic assault rifle.

Part of him wanted to be specifically vicious when he realized that the side glances and muttering were not only the same kind from his wedding, but someone managed to even sound identical to the concerned whispers from back when he had first met Shiro’s friends.

He wondered if they could pick up the differences in him, if maybe it was a sixth sense to know that the person next to you could find a way to kill you with anything that was currently resting in the room.

When he heard a sigh escape from Shiro, causing him to turn and see the frown that he tried to hide so carefully, well he decided he didn’t want to make anymore excuses for them and after setting down a box with more force than was necessary, he made a beeline around the maze that was built around them.

He grasped Shiro's hand the moment he came up to his husband, not caring for the small glances that seemed to follow, and soon he managed to corral Shiro into the adjacent hallway. Keith didn’t hesitate to wrap his arms around the other as the corner provided enough of a hiding place for them, and it came with a burst of pride when he felt stiff muscle relax until he was supporting most of Shiro’s weight.

“I just, I was just hoping it’d be okay by now. That they’d know the man I fell in love with by now.” It was muttered against his skin, absorbing into him and Keith could only hold on tighter.

Keith made sure his voice stayed low, “Look, maybe you should get the next round from the storage unit while we all stay here. Take a moment to yourself.” Shiro moved him back, shock written so plainly into his actions, “I’m serious, we can survive a while without you here. Maybe we’ll even talk.”

Keith really wanted to do more than talk, but he wouldn’t let Shiro know that.

Shiro frowned once more, and Keith couldn’t stop himself when he moved to brace his head with both of his hands. He pulled the taller man down towards eye level, and before Shiro could voice his confusion he brushed his thumbs along his brow before leaning to rest their foreheads together.

“Trust me? You’ve tried the most to get us to be friendly, it’s our turn now.”

It was amusing to watch Shiro’s friends holding back their objections when Shiro all but darted into the room to grab the keys and deliver a short explanation before leaving, and though he had to give them some points for noticing the fatigue, Keith held on to that amusement as he soon found their attention solely focused on him once the sound of Shiro’s car faded away. 

It'd take all of that positive energy to keep himself for going for the nearest weapon.

Pidge was the first to speak, “I’m surprised you decided to stay here.” The lingering with us went unsaid. Just like Keith’s snide remark about making sure they wouldn’t find his weaponry. 

He really did wish he could have gone as well. He promised Shiro, though. This wasn’t just about him anymore.

“Well, I thought it’d be best since we are all hurting him right now.” It was so damn hard to keep any negativity from lacing into his words and reflecting out from them. When the others refused to look at him, he thought that maybe he’d done a good enough job at it.

He could play with this, Kolivan had always said that using real emotion always made things more convincing, and if it meant Shiro no longer feeling like shit when he thought about the division between his friends and his husband, then Keith was willing to do anything.

He lowered his voice, made it seem hesitating and small, “Look, I know you don’t like me. I didn’t want to make this into such a big deal, but I don’t want Shiro getting hurt.”

He paused, then made himself look up to the others.

“I’m not a big fan of it, either. I don’t know what I did wrong with any of this.”

It surprised him when Lance was the first to crack, the first to look like he was even remotely willing to direct his emotions into something else. Lance looked over to Allura and the others, before moving to sit down.

Like clockwork, the others followed and Keith found himself sitting as well. 

It seemed like Lance was going to let them sit in silence, and luckily Keith’s patience won out as the other began speaking, “When we first met Shiro, it was after his arm was replaced. He tried so hard to be a leader that he didn’t bother taking time to care for himself.”

The others nodded, some like Hunk looked out onto the wooden floors with glazed eyes, trapped in memories.

“You’re right about us not being fair, about how it’s hurting Shiro. We just, he means a lot to us too. He’s family.”

Keith nodded, and for once the bitterness didn’t feel like something he had to act out as he answered, “And I’m not.”

Allura sighed, “Not yet, I think. I think it’s just, well—” she loosely gestured, a frown twitching into a grimace when the words escaped her.

“I think we just don’t want to ever see Shiro back in a place like that. Even to the point that we weren't willing to see how happy you two are,” Pidge continued, and Allura shot her a grateful glance.

“Yes, exactly.”

Keith watched them, and for the first time in so long he wondered if he had even needed to pretend to get to this point. He wondered if it was something he could drop now, if he could rely on the truth like they just did. It was so obvious they cared just as much for Shiro as Keith did. 

Keith moved to stand the moment he realized that the wet corners of his eyes were uncontrolled and raw, “Look, we need to keep on moving things before Shiro gets here,” He turned from them before slowing to a stop and turning back, “I don’t want to a stranger to you, and that's not just for Shiro. If he thinks so much of you, then there’s a reason for it.” Keith wanted to hate how the words no longer felt like a lie, how they felt almost as truthful as the vows he had given.

It resonated in the others, and if a few of them moved to place a hand on his shoulder as they worked together, well he wouldn’t object. Just like with the idea of everything now being fixed with no future problems. Keith decided pretending it would be enough.

It was funny seeing Shiro’s reaction though, when he came back to an entirely different atmosphere. The small ring of laughs from the others formed in Keith, too, and relief rushed over him once Shiro joined in. 

He could pretend like this, for Shiro. 


	8. Save Me/Hover-bike

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just a reminder, I am mass posting. today's mass update is 6-8.
> 
> Thank you for reading, please feel free to comment and chat, I love hearing from you all!

“Marriage is a thing you’ve got to give your whole mind to.”  
-Henrick Ibsen

January 31st, 2012  
Los Angeles, CA

Shiro didn’t know if he disliked forgetting how to survive.

It mostly occurred around Keith, when the other would smile at him or when he’d confess things that bothered or scared him. 

It’d happened first after they had told the Voltron team about their engagement. He’d been so busy holding Keith next to him, making sure that the other knew that whatever his friends thought didn’t reflect on how Shiro felt, that he lost account of the world around them.

It was after he walked Keith to his car and he made his way back to his own that he realized the trek towards Keith's car passed not only two alleys, but also a four-way stop that left all their sides unprotected.

If someone had taken a shot, Shiro would might as well have wrapped it in a shiny bow and dyed it neon pink.

The walk gave Shiro a wake-up call to how Keith seemed to make him feel safe enough to disconnect from the need of being the observer, and Shiro hated it almost as much as he was beginning to crave the feeling of letting go.

It happened again during a café meeting, when he almost let Keith have the chair that faced the door. 

Again, during a movie night when he realized the blinds were still opened despite being pitch black outside.

Another, and another, and soon Shiro couldn’t tell if it was something that could even be stopped if Keith continue to emit comfort and safety to everything around him.

It was another moment of disregard, his arms circling around shoulders shaking with enough laughter to occupy every thought and cell within him, and it wasn’t until he saw Keith freeze and his eyes widen that he even realized a man stood before them with a smoke stained gun muzzle directed at them both.

“I won’t ask twice, I want your wallets and everything, now!”

He could feel Keith move, could feel him reach for Shiro’s wallet after dropping his own, and he wondered if this was what going soft meant.

If he didn’t end up with a hole in him, he’d make sure it’d never continue.

The mugger didn’t stop though, gesturing for Shiro’s other pocket, then to the rings on their hands. The gun jerked back and forth, but always stayed centered on them, and for a chilling moment he felt Keith’s warmth leave his side. He watched him form a wall between himself and their attacker.

It was the switch he needed, feigning to pull off the ring he wore, making his hands that were now still shake as he lifted it for the man to take.

Only a concerned, “Shiro.” broke through the stillness he felt. It made the stagnate waters boil instead.

The mugger didn’t see the palm that crashed into his nose until Shiro was already pulling back for another strike, the gun discharged as fingers tightened in pain and Shiro reared back from the shock of sound before striking again and again. 

He could hear shouting from behind him, he felt hands on his shoulders and only the familiar warmth and press of fingers kept him from shifting the rage onto the one behind him.

He had before wondered where the surviving had gone, but seeing eyes glazed with tears, lips mouthing silent concern before twisting into a repressed cry as fingers dug into his arms, he wished it had stayed gone.

It took Keith forcing him into the car and a fifteen minute trip to the nearest hospital before he realized through all the adrenaline and shock that the bullet hadn’t missed. It’d hit just above the prosthetic, rending a gorge into the edge of his shoulder. 

He wondered what it would have looked like in Keith’s head, and promptly had to force his stomach to settle.

While the lights and sounds of the E.R. managed to overwhelm him each and every time he found himself needing medical help, the stitches remained the easy part. The pull and tugging familiar enough that Shiro could focus on it without being consumed by the pain, but it didn’t make the feeling of a fiery gaze any less potent as it seared into his skin. It only disappeared as they drove to Keith’s apartment and he couldn't keep his gaze on Shiro, and again when Keith walked ahead of him to his apartment without looking back.

It didn’t reappear until Keith stood before him near the kitchen’s island counter, a hot mug in one hand and another pushed towards him. 

Keith only brought out the tea when all else was failing to calm him down. He only stayed this silent when he was trying to piece together what needed to be said.

Even knowing this, the rasped voice, strung together within a battered throat from yelling early, made him almost spill his tea with the jolt it caused.

“Don’t you dare,” a pause, a swallow, Keith’s eyes glinting away for barely a moment before centering on his target, “Don’t you ever do that again. I don’t fucking care if it’s a bullet or a car, or some asshole neighbor with a grudge, don’t—don’t ever do that to me again.”

Shiro’s now hyperactive survivalism told him to pull Keith towards him, though it interwove with hesitance and a small amount of fear about making Keith truly angry, and after a coercing Keith with a second pull, he heard him whisper again once he rested again Shiro's chest, 

“I don’t want to do this without you, Shiro. None of this. Just, please don’t leave first.”

He knew, all those months together, that the moment he had placed the ring on Keith’s hand that it had been a moment forged from hours of perusing each and every reason that it could and could not work. Enough so that now, as the adrenaline wore off and he realized that holding the other until no space remained between them was something that had almost become transient, Shiro knew for sure that he could answer back and it wouldn't be centered in trying to convince himself that it was only truth he gave back to Keith. 

He knew it, he wouldn’t have promised himself to Keith if he hadn’t. He wouldn't have placed himself before a loaded gun if he wasn't sure.

But hearing the fear now, seeing how Keith felt it, the fingers that couldn't seem to find a place to land along his back and good shoulder.

Feeling the shaking, now from stress than the laughter before. Knowing he did this, knowing that someone cared enough to react like this.

He held Keith tighter, burying his face into the crook of his neck and shoulder, and he felt Keith release a choked-off sigh, the breath stuttering against his skin.

“Keith, I’ll never stop loving you. It’d take fucking God himself to make me leave you.”

Only arms tightening around his back answered him, and he realized he couldn’t have wished for a better response.


	9. Quality Time/ Physical Touch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> here there be sex.

“We cannot love others as others unless we possess sufficient self-love.”  
-Judith Viorst

June 1, 2012  
Montego Bay, Jamaica

Part of Keith wanted to keep being dazzled each time light glinted off of the wedding band. 

Another wondered exactly how many ways wearing it would compromise him during a mission.

Both sides decided to make a mind that should have been focused only on his honeymoon into a personalized playground instead, and it was approaching a point where Keith felt waves of doubt and worry rise to swallow the ground he stood on. The same waves that really should have made themselves known before the ceremony, to be honest. The kind that he kept back ever since he felt the disapproving gazes of Shiro’s friends or heard the reprimands of his fellow Blade agents.

The waves that could have been quelled with a simple touch and assurance from Shiro if it wasn’t for the fact that Keith would then have to explain why he was so worried.

We wanted to blame Antok and Regris, he had an entire scenario that featured the training room and one of dull knives used during practice the moment he went back to resume his duty. 

Antok, or maybe Regris, would come to talk to him first. 

Probably a, “So you still went through with it, and now you have a ticking time-bomb glued to your hand.” 

Regris would make it sound like an insult, he had this perfect way of making you feel guilty simply by stating the facts. Antok would be more accusing. Both would remind him of every sentence, every syllable, of Marmora training until Keith was ready to skip the training knives and instead use one of his issued blades. 

It was hard to take in the beaches, to watch Shiro’s face and share in the joy he found there, when he could only think of the Marmora compound and his fellow Blades who waited for him to return.

He still wasn’t sure how he got Kolivan to approve this time off.

It was only their second night here, barely past twenty-four hours, and Keith hated how it slipped past the busiest parts of his brain and out before he could really see and enjoy it all.

He must have been slumping forward, drawing into himself in a way that he often refused himself in doing, because the next thing he knew a warm hand rested on his shoulder. He felt the fingers curl in before pulling with such a careful ease that Keith couldn’t help but follow along with the other’s movements, and soon he found himself sighing as his back met firm muscle and another tucked beneath his ribs.

Each inhale from Shiro brought Keith back to the present, until he recognized the sunset before him and how his eyes had to squint to even appreciate the colors that cascaded across the ocean. There was some semblance of quiet where Shiro had taken them, but he could still hear the laughter and elated screams coming from the nearest bar.

He focused on the arms around him instead, looking down to see how the setting sun created stretching shadows and brightened the skin that was still within its reach. His arms were bare, one of the few times Keith had ever seen them as such, and he didn’t hesitate to wrap his own around them. 

The rumbled sigh was unexpected, the nose brushing right below his ear another, and as Shiro tightened his arms Keith had a sudden need to abandon their place here in the sunset and bring Shiro to where no one else could see what was now his.

They kept the window open and the lights off until only streetlamps and the moon illuminated their room, and as Keith watched Shiro above him, when he watched his head lower and gave room to be worshipped in any way that Shiro pleased, he could not help but think that all of this, everything he now held in his hands, could not possible be his forever.

He kept his hips rolling, kept his body reacting to the movement that spread from Shiro’s body and into his, but he could only think of the other’s words. That all of this would backfire the moment he allowed himself to become planted in everything that Shiro offered to him. 

“The moment you tell them anything, it’ll backfire. It always does. And they’ll always know there’s something unsaid.” He had hated Regris’s words now as much as he had before the wedding. 

He felt Shiro’s hips still, even with the heaviness of the other still inside him, and with a stuttered breath Keith could not pull his mind back into the present before Shiro touched his face. The brush of his thumb was the only thing that moved them, each stroke bringing Keith back and as he realized his cheeks were wet beneath Shiro’s touch, he couldn’t stifle enough of the small sob.

Shiro’s other hand rose them, both framing his face as the other looked down with a face twisted in concern and panic, and as he went to pull out from him Keith used his legs to pull the other closer.

“No, I just, please don’t stop.” He didn’t like how his voice cracked, he didn’t like how it only made Shiro frown more.

Shiro didn’t continue to pull away, but he did sit back, looking down at the other without ever letting his hands leave their place on Keith’s cheeks.

He was silent, watching, before leaning down until their foreheads touched, “Why are you crying, love? Please don’t hide from me.”

Like clockwork another sob escaped, and Keith wondered how he could be in even worse positions than this during missions and not crumble like he was now. He wondered if he could even form a new face now with Shiro, if it was even possible to step back when Shiro refused to let the other fall alone.

He wanted to hate it just like he hated the Blade’s warnings, and he realized he couldn’t. 

When he answered it felt like the first time in so long that Keith let someone see the uncovered nerves and the beating of his heart, both covered by the years he lived alone and them with Marmora, and under Shiro’s gaze he realized it did not worry him anymore.

Keith mirrored Shiro’s hands as they framed the other’s face before winding around Shiro’s shoulders, and both shuddered when he only had to tilt his face for their lips to connect. 

Shiro moved to settle a hand against Keith’s back, and then to his hip, but the other stayed where it was, just like how he refused to let their gaze falter and break away.

Keith followed the movement and pushed himself closer, suppressing the groan that crept from his throat, “You’ll never stop loving me, right?”

The hand on his back tighten before lifting Keith in a quick movement, the pressure changing inside of him made his toes curl as he found his chest against Shiro’s. Both hands were along his back now, one rubbing up along his shoulder blade in a way that could only be screaming out a silent mine.

Shiro broke eye contact them, only to blaze a trail of nips and the sensation of a wet tongue down to his collarbone, before rising again to rest at the delicate skin of his throat.

“I will always love you,” he moved then, and this time Keith could not even think of letting his mind wander. 

He wrapped his arms and legs quickly around Shiro, letting the other move them, and as it overwhelmed his senses he could only bury his face against the skin before him.

Shiro continue, “I won’t ever leave you, I’ll never stop trying to make you happy.” His voice broke then as he felt Keith tremble and tighten in response, and Keith could only wonder why this was ever something that could carry so much doubt in his heart. He wondered how he could believe it now when the amount of emotion flooding through Shiro’s voice and through each burning touch that felt visceral and corporal, as if it had a life of its own and it now consumed the both of them.

Shiro did not stop even after Keith’s became limp and pliant, and even as his hips stuttered to an end he continued to brush and caresses against each line and curve of Keith’s body. When Keith regained his breath, and the final buzz of adrenaline dissipated, he lifted his head from Shiro’s chest to look the other in the eye.

“I promise, I’ll never let us lose this. Never.” In the moonlight, he watched as Shiro smiled before pulling him up for another kiss


	10. Suspicion/Reality

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I am mass posting again! Please feel free to comment, I love hearing from all of you!

“If you want to be certain your partner will eventually act like a bitch, accuse them of being one.”  
-Wiliam O’Hanlon

May 31, 2016  
Location Redacted

There was always a fine line between having true control and only holding on to a semblance of it. Keith realized the moment he entered the kingpin’s room that any power he once had danced across that line and into the other’s hands.

He felt it when a hand clawed into the skin of his scalp and used its grip in his hair to push him down, and then again when a foot to his back pushed him until he was sprawled before his current target.

He felt more hands, warm and stifling breaths racing across anywhere that his clothes did not cover until his skin crawled. He played dead.

He let out a small whine, when the hands and movements increased in callousness.

He gave a small sob at the violence of it all, waited for the laughing he knew would come, and then he made his body shift into a new state of mind.

He kicked the nearest person’s legs out from under him and could only feel satisfaction when control slid back to rest in his possession.

It ended with the kingpin pinning him down, using a rebar one of his men had dropped to crash against the side of Keith’s head. One moment, Keith had hands reaching to snap the other’s neck, the next he was pinned to the ground with the metal shoving down into his neck. The ringing buzz pulling and spinning him just as much as the lack of air.

The kinpin laughed, and Keith was glad for the amount of ego he wore like fine clothing. His men forgot to check his boots for knives. His target forgot to watch his hands while pressing down in the hopes of killing him.

Keith forgot it was his anniversary.

The churning of his head didn’t end even when he dragged himself to the rendezvous, it didn’t grew and consumed him when Ulaz had him sitting before him in the inconspicuous van Marmora used for injuries on the field. 

He’d blame that for why he allowed himself to close his eyes and slip away from the pain in his throat and the feeling of crackling throbs dancing in his skull.

He woke up with the feeling of the world spinning and Ulaz shaking him.

He held Keith’s phone in his hand, and as he fought back the wave of nausea, he realized the screen was filled top to bottom with unread messages and missed calls.

It was almost midnight and he missed his anniversary.

It was almost midnight, and Shiro probably thought he bailed or worse.

As Keith moved to stand, his legs tottering until he managed to reign in control, Ulaz lifted the phone from his hands before careening it against the stainless steel table next to them. Keith only looked at him, eyes dazed, and Ulaz sighed before helping him change out of the blood stained clothes.

“You can always buy a new one, now you have an alibi.”

\--

Slipping into their house was easier to do when the ringing in his ears still brought along vertigo, and he couldn’t tell if the feeling of something wrong came from the fact that his body was entirely fucked up or from the sudden realization that Shiro was somewhere nearby, ready to demand answers.

They’d become so good at demanding recently, so much more than Keith thought they ever could be.

Keith didn’t know if he could answer those demands well enough at the moment, and as he entered their room, as his brain was only given a split second to register the feeling of eyes watching him in the dark before he slipped into the bathroom, Keith hoped that there wouldn’t be any questions.

The sound of a lamp clicking on and the rustling of sheets moving reminded him that Shiro never left anything unsaid.

He slipped into the walk in closet just as Shiro rounded the corner, and he could hear his husband’s steps become more loud as he was forced to walk closer.

“Look, I understand your job can be unpredictable, but you could have at least answered my messages, Keith.”

He was too preoccupied with trying to lift his shirt over his head to answer, too busy making sure his world would not turn inside out and knock his feet out from under him the moment he closed his eyes. The pain throughout the sensitive nerves grew when Shiro’s voice rose from not being answered.

“Damnit, you can’t just ignore me like you always do, Keith. What was it this time? Too many people booked? An after-hours party?”

The one time he’d used the excuse of being too busy and now it was all Shiro talked about when things like this happened. The silence that greeted his inability to answer forced Keith to rethink that, though. He did use that excuse too often, even when he could see the way Shiro’s eyes would scrunch together before pushing away the idea that maybe, just maybe, Keith was too busy for him.

He was so trapped in wondering just when he and Shiro no longer had enough patience or even enough willingness to accept the other’s excuses when a hand pushed into the muscles of his shoulder.

The room spun, as that and the combined shock of the lights flickering on turned the vertigo and nausea into a choking mess of threads and needles that only pulled tighter until it cut into Keith. He was sure he let out a small cry, his throat felt like it should have let some form of sound escape, but it took everything just to recognize that the hand against this shoulder had now shifted into cradling him against a more sturdy body.

He felt himself move, registered the loss of light from beneath his eyelids that he refused to open, and only after he found himself being embraced with the softness of their mattress beneath them did Keith force himself to check his surroundings. 

Fingers, so gentle yet searching for each and every piece of injury Keith wore like jewelry, brushed against his throat before moving to his hairline. They aborted their movements in a jolt when Keith flinched back from the pain, and instead moved to wrap around Keith’s arm instead. 

He hated how Shiro’s breath felt forced and fragile, like any movement he caused would only hurt Keith more. He hated how even the small movements reminded him that it wasn’t just his head and neck that shouted out their pain.

He hated that it took looking like this to make Shiro stop accusing him.

He hated that with each throb of pain inside his skull, he couldn’t stop thinking of how Shiro immediately thought the worst, and while his mind couldn’t recall the exact words that the others wielded against him all those years ago, he knew he had been warned about this.


	11. FreeDay (History)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I am still mass posting to get down by at least the end of this week, if not sooner. So make sure you haven't missed anything! Please feel free to leave comments, I love hearing from you all!

“Marriage, at its core, is all about respect for the other person- and respect goes both ways.”  
-Kevin Leman

February 28, 2007  
Former Galtea Headquarters  
11:00 a.m.

Even with only a year of training, the moment Throk made eye contact with him, he knew something was about to go severely wrong. A gun being aimed at his head only a few minutes later confirmed it.

He didn’t wait to see what else would happen and darted into the hallway. He was on the fifth floor of the thirty Galtea had, he was close enough to the stairs that he could make a run for it. 

He knew most of the Marmora division had been upstairs, conferencing with the elites that Keith was still not cleared for meeting.

He collided with another when he reached the stairwell, one moment his hands wrapped around the handle and the next he found himself sprawled on the floor with an agent glaring down upon him.

“You traitors! You fucking—”

The wall next to them deteriorated in a wall of smoke and debris, the force pushing the other off of Keith, and in a sickening moment of clarity he realized that the other’s body was the only thing that saved him from the heat and force of the blast. 

He didn’t look to see if the other was alive, his eyes too focused on the rubble that now blocked the stairwell, and after a moment of reorienting himself he started to weave and dodge through the debris and whoever survived it. 

Antok was the first he found, surrounded by agents below, and it was almost a sick glee that encompassed Keith when they soon found themselves standing above their bodies. 

He knelt by one, moving the body until a logo was shown. It was an off colored compared to the purple that Marmora and the Galra side of the agency wore, he heard Antok come closer before a growl reverberated through the other.

“A insurgence, in our own people.”

Keith nodded, trying to force himself to keep breathing, “I ran in to a Altean agent, he called me a traitor before trying to kill me.”

Antok moved away, grabbing onto Keith’s arm as he headed for the same exit that Keith had been. Keith let him, but not without trying to reason with Antok.

“If we leave now, they’ll never believe that we’re not associated with this.”

Antok only moved faster, “Kolivan had already sounded a retreat, if you stay to fix things, they’ll treat you like a traitor, too.”

“Not if we stop it now! We can help them, they’ll see it then!”

Antok slid to a stop and centered a glare to the younger man. “Zarkon just killed the co-leader and founder of Altea, they are wearing uniforms that are just similar enough to our own, and Alfor’s daughter just sent out a kill order for anyone associated with Zarkon and his men,” he paused, his voice dulling until Keith could barely catch the rest, “Even Marmora. Keith, we stay here, and we’ll die. Then there will be no one to bring the truth to the light again.”

When Antok stared to run, Keith did not hesitate to follow.

\--

28th Floor  
10:45 a.m.

Shiro watched as a spray of red erupted from Alfor’s head, the drops almost falling against the edges of his shoes as the room dropped in deafening silence.

He didn’t know if all the blood had fallen before Allura screamed, but he knew they had finished falling just like Alfor’s body when he whirled on his leg to face the one who shot from behind him.

He made the mistake of freezing when Sendak was the only one there, his mind restating then stalling in a series of misfires as he saw the gun still held upwards and a smile that now took the place of a status report the other had just finished.

He watched Sendak take aim once more, he knew only Allura was still behind him, the rest of their team outside waiting with Sendak’s and Alfor’s personal elite, and without thinking he reached for it.

He felt prosthetic shrapnel and a brush of heat against his face and side, he heard the sounds of bullets from the other side of the office door.

Sendak didn’t see the knife in his other hand. Shiro was sure he didn’t even see it until he’d buried it into his eye. 

Allura let herself be pulled along with Shiro as they exited the room, and as Shiro went to help his team he could hear Allura begin a kill order, her voice faltering when they rounded the nearest corner to see Alfor’s former elite on the ground with enough bullet holes to make them almost unrecognizable.

His own team were using a half wall to protect themselves from the three Galra that still stood.

It didn’t take long to finish them, but with the thought of seeing Lance or Pidge laying on the floor as well, but when he could only picture Hunk head exploding like Alfor’s did.

Later, when they found themselves in Allura’s safe house that not even her father had known about, they listened to her report on what was left. That of the forty percent of Altea agents, barely half had survived. That the Marmora division had disappeared when the insurgency burned through what had once been the strongest independent task force agency in the world.

Shiro didn’t hesitate to agree when Allura called for each traitor’s blood, not when he could still see the events playing out as if it was still happening right before him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, talk about a lot of unforeseen complications...lol. Fixing a bad relationship always manages to pull up things that neither partner wants to be seen.


	12. Eternal/Choices

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the lateness! I just finished all my summer classes, and I was utterly exhausted, lol. I have a few songs that fit this story for you, too!
> 
> Lone- What so not  
> Heavy in your Arms- Florence and the Machines  
> Novocaine- Fall Out Boy.
> 
> Thank you again for reading! I'm fairly sure you've all guessed by now that my writing and updating schedule is a mess. A utter ball of yarn that will never be tamed again. But thank you for sticking with me this far, it means a lot!

“Marriage is a huge investment of time, of energy, and of emotion. Protect and keep contributing to your investment.”

-Karen Gordon

June 12, 2016  
Santa Monica, CA

Despite holding on to him that night, Shiro could not force himself to make eye contact with Keith after he returned bruised and bloodied. 

Not when he’d seen those eyes looking back at him and not a flicker of eagerness and teasing affection whenever Shiro was in the same room shown.

He didn’t know when it had dissipated, he didn’t know if there would have been a chance to catch it before it collapsed into itself. He hated not knowing, almost as much as watching Keith pretend alongside him that everything was the same between them.

He froze each and every negative thought the moment the hatred seeped into Keith’s skin, though. He didn’t want to see where that hate would lead. 

He’d promised him. 

Just like he promised to sit down in this small patio café with a pergola that failed at keeping most of the sun from his eyes. It seems like even patio coverings were letting him down now, and with that thought a small snort escaped. Keith’s eye raised from the menu, the last remnants of the black eye and bloodied nose so obvious when Shiro’s eyes had soaked them in for almost two weeks now.

Keith frowned when he saw Shiro’s face scanning his own and leaned down to stare at the food options again. Shiro studied his own, refusing to look back up even after Keith placed his menu down.

We used to talk so well together. 

The thought was unwelcome, but Shiro supposed that was what happened when you read about the same entrée five times over. 

It took the waiter arriving and stealing away the only thing Shiro could pretend was a more important than talking when he realized Keith was just as silent. He hated how he always was saving the pleasure of talking first for him. He realized when he saw Keith’s fingers twitching over the silverware, tilting them this way and that before resettling them.

It was the fourth time he’d done it, and Shiro hated that he was keeping count.

Shiro swore he was going to talk before the food arrived, but the waiter appearing on his left made him pause, and while he supposed the smell should have made him want to keep the silence, it only made his stomach churn.

He hated feeling out of place. He hated that this entire date of theirs was making him hate more than usual. It was never a thing he wanted when he was away from the agency and his missions.

He waited until Keith had food in his mouth, “You know, it’s been a while since we’ve done this. Like movie dates, dinners. It’s been almost a year, I think.”

Keith slowed his chewing, his eyes darting to look up at Shiro before moving away. He was used to targets dodging him, even Lance or Hunk when their agency’s single coffee maker sputtered and died in the middle of the shift.

He’d be fucked if Keith did the same right now.

“Look, I promised to support you, always. I promised a lot and I feel like it’s not enough, not with you coming home half dead,” Keith flinched, Shiro refused to acknowledge that his fork was now resting on his plate, “You promised me the same, too. I—I’m just not sure if it’s working anymore.”

“I told you I was mugged, it wasn’t my choice.” Keith wasn’t chewing anymore, but his voice sounded low and gutted, as if something was stuck in his throat.

“Just like it wasn’t your choice to answer texts hours late, or leave in the middle of us-time?” Shiro hated how Keith looked like he wanted to bolt, then. A small part that was growing larger by the minute wanted to know if Shiro could make it grow more. If he could keep the small frown and upset gaze there long enough until things would work out again.

“You going to leave now, too?”

The gaze turned sharp, lips curling and the anger recoiled into shock before emerging again.

Keith hissed back, his voice choking on itself with tense his body was, “If you’re going to attack me, then maybe I should!”

“I’m not the one avoiding and hiding things!”

Keith’s hand returned to the knife, “You’ve left me in the middle of things, too! I thought we understood that work is hectic.”

“Oh yes, you’re so busy running around and filing paperwork.” Shiro snorted, and the small flash of hurt upon Keith’s face made him wish this would just stop. It was easier to respond.

Keith went to retaliate, Shiro went to prepare for a return of the fire Keith always doused him in before skidding to a halt when Keith paused. His eyes closed, blocking Shiro from the fire, and without the contact of it Shiro all but shrank into himself.

Keith picked up his fork, but he didn’t return to eating and Shiro only watched as the poor sandwich was slowly but utterly shredded. A brief glance to the glazed over look on Keith’s face made him wonder if he even saw the wasted remains of what was once blog worthy. 

Keith didn’t hesitate after the sandwich was decimated, his voice more low than before.

“I haven’t, you’re right, but sometimes I feel like you aren’t either.” He paused, wringing his upper lip between his teeth before continuing, “You know I don’t exactly have a good background, things got better, my—my family supported me and everything, but sometimes. Sometimes I still find myself back there.”

Shiro wanted to take the anger and force it into a shield around Keith, even despite the fact that he had been so ready to let it sink into the other only moments before. He wanted it to the point his whole body rung in restless energy. Forcing it down until it settled, Shiro reached for Keith’s hand when he realized his nails were biting into the soft skin of his wrist.

“Just trust me? I love you, Shiro. I always will.” It was soft, Shiro responded just as softly.

“I want to, but this isn’t going to work long-term. I—we can’t survive like that.”

Keith nodded, his hand rose in a slow arc to incircle their joined ones. Shiro continued when he felt the pressure tighten, until he was sure Keith would not move back.

“I don’t think we can fix this alone. I—I know someone, through Hunk.”

Keith smiled, the angle off in how forced it was, “Will they hate me, too?” Keith moved his hand back, then, his frown returning. “We should.”

Shiro nodded, then forced himself to return to his plate. He didn’t watch how Keith would face off the remains of his. He didn’t even look up when he heard Keith continued. He blame the tugging pull of fatigue that now circled within him.

“Just, give me time, Shiro? Okay? I want to tell you, I really do. I’m just not ready.”

He only nodded, pondering if he’d be ready to reveal his own when the time came.

He hated accusing his husband when he carried the same guilt, maybe that was what made it so easy to do. Shiro didn’t continue talking and instead took a bite of the still whole sandwich before him.


	13. Happy Ending/ Tragedy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I love it when characters wind up at crossroads, to trust tor not to trust? I'm not saying they have trouble letting people in, but they have trouble letting people in.
> 
> Thank you again for reading, I'm getting very excited because the plot should begin moving into the present now! Thank you for being patient with all the world-building and chapters dedicated to settings and character insight. It'll all be worth it.

“Marriage is about being a team.”

-Elijah Davidson

July 13, 2018  
Santa Monica, CA  
9:36 A.M.

The small office had its charm, even if it was currently stifling Keith with its potted ivy and rows of bookshelves. Even the seats he, Shiro, and the counselor were using felt too close together. 

Before the walls had felt like they were creeping closer in, Keith had to admit that Shiro’s idea may have been a good one. Hunk’s therapist friend, Shay, had a good record. Both on her online profiles and even farther into the records that Keith had Regris search.

He should have realized she’d be too good, he should have seen it the moment she saw Shiro walking in before him without a glance over to make sure Keith was following. Instead of saying a word, she gave a warm smile and gestured for them to sit. 

It was not the best way to introduce themselves, yet despite that Keith tried to reason with himself that she had more than likely seen worse

“Tell me, how did you meet?” another smile, Shay was good at smiles.

“Well, it happened in Bogotá, down in Columbia. I meet Keith during a small vacation I managed to get.” He could always count on Shiro to talk first, he was good at it.

Shay nodded before turning to Keith, “I assume you were also on vacation?”

Keith shook his head, “No, it was a business thing. I was making sure a sponsor’s order was, er, properly met.” He’d been committing espionage, but it was close enough. “Sometimes my work needs me to be on site to make sure everything goes smoothly.”

He could feel Shiro’s gaze when he said that, it made each strand of hair on his skin raise and Keith wanted it curbed-stomped and trampled upon the moment he could label it down as yet another time Shiro prompted that kind of reaction. Another occasion to join the ones from awkward dinners and getting ready in the morning. It was enough that sometimes he wished he could punch him.

Shiro didn’t wait for Keith’s mind to stop its tirade, “I didn’t realize you’ve always been this busy. I thought it was just a recent thing.”

“It comes in goes in waves, but before we met I used to be out of town almost every other week.” He watched Shiro’s eyes narrow and refused to show any sign of dreading his next response.

“I guess they needed you to be there more often again, these last few years.” 

Shay’s voice bounded in, almost lightening the air around them, “Sometimes careers can be demanding, just like marriages.”

Keith nodded, and he felt Shiro’s gaze turn to rest on Shay instead. She continued after a moment.

“Sometimes, when we feel like something is wrong, a panic switch goes off. Like any switch, there isn’t a moderate or middle ground, it’s just on or off. In trauma, it’s your fight or flight, in this case I’d say it’s feeling like second best.”

“I know jobs can take time, my own does it, I know Keith’s does as well, that doesn’t cause the—the panic you’re talking about.” Shiro interjected, making Keith’s fingers curl into the seat. He regretted it the moment he saw Shay looking down before looking at Shiro.

“Then what does?”

“It’s outside of it, at home or even when I try to stay in contact during the day. That’s gone.” Shiro paused to inhale, the motion all but stealing away Keith’s. “Sometimes it’s like he’s hiding from me, and that’s when I feel second best.”

Keith looked at Shiro then, his face feeling almost numb at his words, and for the first time Shiro did not look back. He wondered if this was how Shiro felt every time he avoided his gaze, the crawling burn that seemed to plunge into a pit within his chest. 

“Well, sometimes it feels like you’re hiding things, too!” Keith hadn’t felt the words emerging, but the burning made him glad they still appeared.

Shiro looked at him then, “At least I try, I’m not making excuses to hold things back.”

“My reasons aren’t excuses, you told me you understood that!”

The burning was twisting and churning now, a nausea that he had never felt with Shiro before. He’d known Shiro was not happy with his answers, he’d known it wasn’t fair to ask him to accept them every time but hearing this. All of this. Keith tried to swallow back any more continuations, and Shay used that to wheedle in.

“It seems that Keith has tried to explain before, and so have you Shiro. I think that maybe it’s not communication itself but allowing yourself to accept what the other says.” 

Shiro laughed, “If you’d been here a year before, you’d seen me being more accepting, but this has been going on for so long now.”

Shay nodded, “That’s the problem with conflict in marriage, it grows and becomes something else. It’s up to you to decide whether or not it has grown too much.”

As much as Keith wanted to shake his head, to yell and disagree, he knew it was correct. It’d taken almost two years to even come here, two years after promising at that café. He missed Shay’s next words, and only snapped back when he felt Shiro’s hand brush against his. It took too much to keep himself from moving away at the sudden touch, enough that he felt his hands shaking.

“Keith, what stops you from sharing yourself to your husband? This is the same to you as well, Shiro. In your marriage, it’s hard to let go of secrets from your past. It’s hard to let others in and share them, but if I remember correctly, you’ve had almost six years.” She moved to reach behind her and pick up a tablet of paper from the desk, when she moved back she continued while writing, “I want you to think about that, for this week’s homework. I also want you to really take time to talk this week. About anything, whether it’s the things you’re holding back or just simple conversations.”

Keith could only nod, and he watched as Shay held the paper out to Shiro. He moved to stand before settling back down with haste as Shay continued.

“I might suggest doing something that’s needed around the house together, working while talking can lower the stress. See it as a way to relearn how to be open with one another.”

Even back in the car, Keith felt carved out, the walk from the office to the parking lot had done little to fix that. He waited until they had passed a third red light, trying to convince himself that it would not be worth talking, before he managed to push his thoughts outs.

“Shiro?” 

He was given a hum in response, and while it was not what Keith really wanted, he’d take it.

“I don’t want to lose you.”

It was a good thing Shiro was stuck at the light because he now had the other’s full attention. His eyes widened, mouth agape as he looked at him, and Keith was grateful when he saw the green light flash. The moment he pointed it out, it felt like a relief when Shiro could no longer stare.

“I don’t want you feeling like second best, I—I didn’t even realize that you did. I don’t want that, but I also don’t want to feel like you can’t even trust me.”

“Keith, I—” 

“Like, how can you even love like that, how do you fix that?”

He let Shiro talk then, his words all but extinguished the moment they finished pouring out.

“Keith, when we first married, even before, you meant the world to me,” Keith tensed, waiting for Shiro to continue, “You still mean the world, even despite all this. That’s what makes it so frustrating. It’s not just you, it’s me as well. Let’s, let’s just find out how we want to work on Shay’s homework, okay? We’ll focus on things one at a time and then we’ll be able fix it.”

“And you do want to fix it?” It felt heavy, saying that. Almost as heavy as the brief glance Shiro gave him before returning to the road.

“More than anything else I’ve ever faced.”

He wondered if that was just Shiro trying to console him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Personally for me, a lot of the failed relationships I've seen in been in have been because of the unwillingness of sharing and letting the other in. It's a bit therapeutic to write on it.


	14. Alternate Reality/Star-crossed

“The person you choose to marry will have a great influence in your life.”

July 14, 2018  
2:12 p.m.  
Voltron Headquarters

He thought he saw a flash of horror in Lance’s eyes when he called for a meeting, and without a doubt he saw the twin of it in Hunk’s gaze when the other tried to tiptoe away from the others. Lance’s glare stopped Hunk in his tracks the moment the other noticed, and soon Shiro had them all in Allura’s office.

She didn’t look horrified, but he was sure that her gaze was capable of incinerating him the moment she disliked his words. They really hadn’t forgiven him for that announcement party six years ago.

“Can we please just get over this? I still have that server to screen through before I go home.” Pidge’s voice drawled in a lazy lilt as she settled into her seat.

Shiro coughed to clear his throat, his fingers begging to twitch as he realized that yet again, he was stepping into territory that the team would not like.

They could suck it up, after all the times they threw him into things that left his hair charred, or his body aching, they could participate in this conversation like normal adults.

“I want to tell Keith about us.”

A burst of laughter sounded to his left, and when Shiro turned his head he could see Coran waving at him to continue, his hand pressed against his forehead.

“Sorry, sorry, I just thought that this conversation would have happened much earlier.”

“Coran’s right, I was expecting after we helped you move.” Lance said.

Shiro sputtered, trying to find words, and Allura joined in without giving him time to collect himself.

“Especially after the little chat we all had.”

Shiro found his voice, “I—I thought you still disliked the idea of us marrying.”

“He was very persuasive.” Hunk muttered, Lance nodded in agreement.

Shiro found himself needing to sit, and after a moment he continue, “He’s sure that I’m hiding something from him, and I think it makes him feel like he needs to hide, too.” He looked towards Allura, his brow aching with the amount of stress placed there. “I’ve known him this long, Allura, can’t we find some way to make this work?”

The room was quiet, and Shiro found himself looking away as Allura did to think. Hunk was the first to break it, his voice low enough to not startle anyone from their thoughts.

“We did it with Shay after we started dating, she helped train most of our psychiatric branch in medical.”

Lance exhaled before leaning back, “Keith isn’t in medical, though. And what if he doesn’t want to contribute? What if it only makes him want to leave?”

It felt like Lance not only landed a kick to his stomach, but somehow managed to snap his spine in the process. His face must have shown it with how Lance scurried to continue.

“Not that he would! The guy loves you a lot, Shiro. He talked Allura down, for fucks sake.”

Allura nodded then turned to look at Pidge when she spoke, “Maybe we should all sit on this, finish the mission for this week and then talk again. I for one think that Keith may not take it well, but I don’t think it’ll end in fire and brimstone like Lance said.” Shiro could hear the affronted gasp from Lance, but the amount of relief made it too difficult to filter in the words and make them understandable.

“I agree with Pidge. This mission will not only give us a chance to take down a Galra agent but will also give us some time.” The others nodded, and Shiro let himself join along.

He knew it wasn’t much, but for the first time he didn’t feel any doubt that his team would give Keith a chance.


	15. Sins/ Habits

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> :D
> 
> Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoy this!

“True marriage will encounter some difficult or turbulent times—whose marriage doesn’t?”  
-S. Levine

July 15, 2018  
Los Angeles, CA  
11:45 a.m.

Shiro was trying to be better at keeping in contact with Keith. It was why he was texting him at the moment, the café’s grated iron chairs digging into his thighs with a vengeance while his fingers pattered away. He was good at texting while watching the road, so he decided it would be the same concept while watching their target.

The grate imprint on his ass certainly helped in fine honing his concentration.

The target wore a simple cap, but Shiro had spent almost two years seeing that face during meetings to the point that he’d recognize Thace’s tired eyes and high cheekbones in the dark. 

He looked down to his screen, Thace resting neatly in his peripheral, and let his eyes scan over the text he was about to send.

Shiro: Sorry babe, may be late tonight.

He deleted the ‘babe’ then hit send, then looked back up towards the target. The mere sight of watching him eating and acting normal made Shiro want to draw his gun then and there to end it. His phone buzzed again.

Keith: That’s fine, a friend just came to town, so I’ll just go say hi longer.”

Shiro’s chest hollowed, the sight of the agent before him still making him want to move even though his legs now felt leaden. Keith always did find a way to continue on without him.

A hooded man sitting next to Thace made those thoughts crumble, and with a hiss he alerted the others.

“It’s no longer a solo agent, I’m counting two now. Lance, do you see more?” 

Static, before the earpiece clicked on as Lance answered.

“No faces from our record, and I can’t get a visual.”

Pidge’s voice then, the sound followed by the sounds of her typing.

“I’m not getting a paper trail on this one, either. He showed up on the cameras five minutes ago at the Greyhound Package Express, but there’s nothing before.”

“Do not stray from mission protocol, our target is still in our range. We’ll deal with both if needed.” Allura’s voice managed to sooth Shiro’s nerves, and even with the texts still in mind Shiro found himself burrowing himself further into the needed mindset.

Just in time for the waitress to trip and drop her entire armful of filled plates next to him. He looked up just as Thace’s eyes met his, the tired and sleep deprivation look widening with a jolt of adrenaline before he shouted to his companion to run. 

When Thace and the other man ran, Shiro started the chase.

The hooded man outran Thace, darting into a side street and away from Shiro’s line of sight, but he didn’t pay any mind to it. He only shouted directions into his comm, breath not even strained yet, and as Thace went to round the corner he was instead forced back.

It was gratifying, seeing the arc of blood that scattered out from his shoulder and the loud excited shout that Lance gave over the earpiece, same with watching him hit the ground hard. He staggered up, twisting back to slip into the alleyway, and even with the wound he managed to jump away from Shiro’s reach. He started the chase again with Pidge giving directions for Hunk to meet with the van in the background.

The wound made Thace slow, and even when Shiro stumbled after failing to grab onto him he still gained ground on him. Shiro leapt over the spilled garbage Thace left behind him. finally managing to grab onto the back of Thace’s shirt, his other hand going for his knife, when a hand took ahold of his hair and wrenched him back. He was so focused, he hadn't heard the approaching footsteps. A small curse escaped as he realized just how loud the other had to have been to sprint towards them.

He twisted, fighting the pressure that was pulling him down and off balance, and without letting the pain sink in, Shiro twisted until he saw the back of his attacker’s knees and tackled him around his waist.

The man’s grip faded, Shiro could see some of his hair intertwined with the hand that tried to soften the fall. The same hoodie from before hid his face, but it didn't hide the strands of dark hair that dragged across the asphalt when Shiro pushed his head further down. He got his knife in hand this time, forcing the other’s bucking body down, when his earpiece buzzed alive.

“We may need him, he’ll have more information.” 

Shiro looked up to try and see which camera Pidge was using to watch, ignoring how the man’s heel managed to strike his back. He was about to answer when he felt a gun placed against the back of his neck. The body underneath him stilled as a resounding click of the safety being released seemed to echo around them.

“Get off him now, or I’ll shoot.” Thace’s voice was ragged, the sound tightly clenched from the pain he must have been in. Shiro did as he was told, and without a moment of hesitance the man scrambled away.

The hooded man turned to him, a sneer forming before his entire body jolted into an eerie stillness. Shiro could just make out the lines of the rest of his face, and the more he looked the more he felt the stillness encompass him as well.

“We’re leaving now. If I even see you turn around, I’ll shoot you.”

The hooded man passed by him, face down and pointed away from him. Shiro didn’t move until he could no longer hear their footprints. He thought seeing Thace was too much, that the texts left him feeling incomplete and off centered.

The realization that the face was almost too familiar made those previous things feel like nothing in comparison. 

Even as the sound of footsteps faded, even when he could hear the team demanding an update, Shiro didn't move.


	16. Ignite/Error

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (ノಠ益ಠ)ノ彡┻━┻
> 
> Thank you for reading! I told myself I'll be done by Season 7, and I am doubting my own words now. ahhhahaaha.

“Relationships, marriages, are ruined where one person continues to learn, to develop and grow, and the other person stands still.”  
-Catherine Pulsifer

July 15, 2018  
3:07 p.m.  
Abandoned Lot

Thace refused to stop looking at Keith when the other busied himself with medical gauze and disinfectant. The agent currently sat on a stainless steel table, putting pressure on his shoulder wound. Even when Keith couldn’t see him, he felt his gaze traveling with him each time he moved to get the needed supplies.

“I didn’t realize that one of Voltron’s agents would be there today.”

Keith hummed, forcing his hands to not shake as he cut the gauze into the right shape. He turned to Thace then, supplies in hand. Thace continued as his voice strained from the disinfectant’s sting when Keith rubbed down the damaged skin.

“I hadn’t seen Takashi since Zarkon’s betrayal. I’m not really surprised he’s still searching so adamantly.” Keith knew Thace saw the way his body tensed, how he placed more pressure on the bullet wound than necessary.

“I take it he has you call him by something else.”

Keith met Thace’s gaze with a sudden lightheadedness, “You knew who I was married to. This whole time?”

Thace shook his head, “No, maybe we should have accepted that RSVP. It’d have saved you all this trouble.”

Keith prepared the sutures, and for the first time he didn’t have to stop his hands from shaking as muscle memory took over.

“He told me his name was Shiro Kurogane. That his parent’s had a sense of humor. They laughed about it at the reception.” They’d laughed when Keith choked on his champagne, he remembered each brush of Shiro’s fingers when he tried to help stop the stifled coughs.

He didn’t want to think of those same fingers pushing his cheek and nose into garbage and asphalt.

“You need to approach this with caution, your face was not completely covered.” Thace’s remarked on the other thing he refused to think about. The next suture was more of a jab, accompanied with a sharp hiss.

“You know I’m right, Kolivan would be telling you this is why we have no outside relations.” Thace gritted his teeth, and from behind Keith he heard a sigh.

“We don’t use patients as pin cushions, Keith.” Ulaz. Another set of steps made Keith look around to see that Regris stood nearby.

Ulaz continued, “Kolivan knows, he is advising that we uproot you now. It—”

“I won’t.” The room went silent, the sutures almost all but forgotten. He heard Thace reaching for him, and he stepped back without finishing the suture's knot. 

“Voltron cannot be negotiated with, not then and certainly not now.” Regris spoke in a hushed voice, but it rang so loud in Keith’s ears. Keith glared at him, then at Ulaz.

“We don’t even know if they recognized me yet, I can find a way to get to Shiro. I know he’ll listen to me.” He didn't add that Shiro had promised him that knowing it'd only be labelled as a sentiment. That Keith was too far deep to make any rational decisions. 

He just had to talk to Shiro, he knew he had to. 

“You go in there, then you do it at your own risk. Your own personal life cannot endanger those of your fellow agents.” Thace’s voice was a burst of thunder, and Keith felt his heart stutter.

Ulaz only shook his head, and he could see the disapproving frown that both he and Regris wore. Keith turned from them, refusing to bite into his lip or show any sign hurt from their words. Instead he picked up the sutures and continued to seal Thace’s wound. 

It was so silent, he swore he could hear the needle’s punctures and the sliding of the thread as he pushed and pulled the wound closed.

\--

Shiro was thankful when the others didn’t question him leading them to his house. They had voiced concerns when they found him in the alley, Lance had even tried to help by rearranging the mess that made up his hair, but the moment they saw how determined he was to rush home they hadn't stopped him. Hunk had even drove him after picking up Lance from his sniper post.

…A friend just came to town…

He made a direct path to the kitchen once he dropped the keys at the doorway and flung the first cabinet open. Finding nothing, he did it again to the nearest one. The other just watched, though now he could see Allura was there as well with eyes widened in concern.

It took four cabinets and the pantry before he found a fake wall under the sink followed by a handgun and its ammunition. He looked up at the team, and he knew that Hunk recognized it being a model that Shiro didn’t use. He saw it the moment his eyes darkened, the moment the worry became something else. He dropped the gun down, his hands lowering to grip the counter’s edge.

Hunk started to speak, and for once Shiro didn’t want to hear anything from him or the rest of the team, and with a silent apology he cut the other off.

“I didn’t want to believe that I saw him, in the alley.” He watched as the same realization spread from Hunk to the others, he watched the same coldness that branched through his own body move into theirs.

They’d spent so long hunting down the ones responsible for Alfor’s death, for every agent who was killed that day.

He’d been married to one this entire time.


	17. Sacrifice/Rebirth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> another flashback, but I love them.

“Healthy relationships of all kinds are usually composed of honesty, trust, and respect.”  
-Ace McCloud

June 2, 2012  
2:14 a.m.  
Montego Bay, Jamaica

Keith didn’t mind that the room was just as warm as Shiro’s arms, or the sweat that was just beginning to cool on their skin. Keith could feel the pressure of Shiro’s shins on his ankle bone, the dig of a knee underneath his thigh. Shiro had fallen asleep with one hand buried in dark hair and the other curving into the space here Keith’s hip dipped.

No one in Marmora trusted like this. 

He could count on a single hand the amount of time he’d managed to sneak up on another, just like he knew very few could do the same to him. Shiro shifted with a small groan, the fingers in his hair scratching against his scalp. 

He tucked himself further into the embrace until his nose brushed against the other’s, drawing a small sound from Shiro as his sleep was almost brought back to the surface of consciousness. Keith stilled, watching his eyelids flicker before the peace was restored.

It amazed him how much of a light sleeper Shiro was, even when it was so obvious that the other was tired. Keith wondered those sleeping habits would clash with his own sensitive ears and finely tuned senses. Shiro had already warned him that sometimes he wandered at night, that sometimes the phantom pain and thoughts were too much.

He could almost recast in vivid detail the smile he earned that time, the curve gentle and surprised when Keith offered to walk with him. He’d buried his hands in Keith’s hair then, just like now. 

He must have shuffled again while lost in the memory of the kisses from that night, from the kisses Keith had just received only hours ago, because tired grey eyes blinked open to gaze into Keith’s. The hand on his hip tightened and he could feel the legs intertwined with his own stretch.

“Time for sleeping, think tomorrow.” His voice was sleep thick, each word a struggle to understand with how mumbled it was. When he saw that Keith still didn’t close his eyes, he found Shiro pulling his head down to rest under his chin. 

His body fell limp the moment he felt the thrums of Shiro’s heart at his ear, the beating slow and languid as a small snore vibrated up Shiro’s throat from his lungs. The hand at his waist now wrapped around his back.

It was everything and more that Keith ever needed, hearing the proof that the body next to him was alive and well.

He had waited for the moment he’d feel the tang of being compromised, the bitterness of knowing he was like one of his targets. Even after Shiro had calmed him before, he waited for it to resurface.

Each beat of Shiro’s heart refused, though.

Keith felt his own follow into the pattern, he felt the rise and fall of Shiro’s chest, how it only made the heartbeats stronger. Shiro’s arms were limp, his back was unprotected and the window was still open to let in the moonlight.

He’d never felt more safe.

Carefully, with more of a whisper that just formed sound, he breathed against Shiro’s skin.

“You make everything worth it.”


	18. Free Day (Planning)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I love angst, can you tell that I love angst?

“Failure to develop and maintain a high level of trust can lead any marriage into a whirlwind of problems.”  
-Kenton D. Wiley

July 16, 2018  
4:27 p.m.

Allura was sitting in her office when Shiro made it back to headquarters. The others having left him while he continued to scourge the house for any more signs of Keith’s hidden side. 

He didn’t know if they did it out of respect, or out of fear of seeing this wild mirage that encircled him.

He didn’t really care at the time.

Seeing Allura looking back at him now, her bottom lip reddened from what Shiro could only guess was her biting it in worry, Shiro found that he did. She nodded as he came closer, the quiet almost a godsend for him as he took a seat next to the couch she occupied. The others weren’t in the lobby, or outside in their common area. He didn’t check their own quarters, hadn’t had the energy or maybe even the courage to do so. 

“Keith was going to be late anyways tonight, but I still didn’t see him before leaving.” Reporting was simple, so ingrained over the years that he could just fall into the motions.

Allura took a moment to answer, “The others are looking in to archives and other databases. Either he was a new recruit at the time my father died, or someone did a very good job erasing him.”

Allura moved forward to the liquor decanter on the coffee table, and filled two of the glasses much higher than she usually did during their conversations. Shiro didn’t voice any opposition, and instead nursed it while Allura continued.

“Coran is taking it hard. He’s angry that he failed to recognize Keith. I’m fairly sure the others feel the same.”

“I lived with him for six years, I’m the most to blame for this.”

He downed half the glass.

“Just, all those years and he had my trust the whole time.” He words trailed off into silence. Allura took a sip from her glass.

Six years of promising to love the other, to always be there. The flush on his cheeks and the burning in his chest wasn’t just caused from the whiskey. 

Slowly, the others filed in as time passed. Allura poured for them all, not even complaining when the decanter dried out. She only set it aside and walked over to her desk then returned with her tablet and a pile of documents.

“We need to settle this, now. Before anymore collateral is caused.” She looked almost green when she said it, Shiro wondered if his was worse when his stomach bottomed out at her words. He hadn’t taken it in before, so shocked at the idea that Keith was one of those traitors. 

It hit now, the cool knowledge that another target was on their list. It didn’t feel as satisfying as he’d expect. Usually unearthing more Galra and Marmora was something Voltron celebrated, knowing that soon they would make the world safer. He wished he wasn’t able to put a face to it now. He wished he didn’t know the target’s favorite shows, which ice cream to buy when the other had a hard day at work. God, when was the last time he’d even done that for Keith. 

He cut those thoughts off, and nodded at Allura.

“We need to arrange a meeting, somewhere public that can be monitored and lull him into thinking everything is safe. The more difficult of an escape we make it, the easier this will be.” His words felt far more clinical than they ought to be, the others gazed at him as if they could see the crude chasm that cut his words away from his emotions.

Hunk was the first to respond, “How do we know that’ll work. Keith’s an agent, he’s not going to fall for the obvious.”

Pidge shook her head, “It’s still not confirmed that we know it’s him.”

“I’ll invite him to dinner, I’ll say I tried to cook dinner and failed, and that maybe a date night is what we need instead.” Shiro slipped farther into the collected calm he wore as a tactician and watched when the others nodded.

Lance added more as Allura began to sketch out the plans, “We’ll have points both in and around the restaurant, Coran and Pidge can monitor from the parking lot.”

“If back-up is needed, then it won’t be too slow like last time.” Pidge looked at each of them, and despite the plan that was coming together, only frowns marred each face.

“Fuck, I just—I liked him, too.” Hunk whispered. Shiro heard Allura drop the pen as the team froze.

“We all did, he was very good at making sure of it.” It was Coran who finally responded, and Shiro could only close his eyes. It didn’t help, blocking the faces before him. It didn’t stop him from focusing on the plans now laid out before them.

\--

Despite the disapproval from Regris, he still found himself sitting next to the man hours later. He knew how to ask for forgiveness, and it came in the form of a now half-full wine bottle between them. 

He wasn’t drunk, but Keith still let his shoulders curve forward until most of his weight rested on his knees. Regris didn’t talk, even when his mouth was empty of alcohol, and Keith appreciated it. Sometimes the best way to re-center himself was with a quiet partner and a silent room. It helped that Ulaz and Thace left prior to Regris’s gift, because Keith was sure that this would just be another tally against him. 

Even if he still wasn’t past being tipsy.

A quarter of a shared bottle wasn’t enough to keep him from imagining Shiro now planning a witch hunt, it didn’t stop him from creating scenarios where Shiro would listen to him. Where Shiro didn’t know yet. Maybe where Shiro would be in danger, and he’d come in and help, reveal it all, and Shiro would only hold him and tell him he loved him in response.

He wasn’t tipsy or drunk, but the silence was a good partner when it came to a worrying mind.

Regris moved next to him, and topped off their glasses again. He wondered how weak this wine would have to be when he still wasn’t buzzed yet. He wondered if that was a good thing, or if it wasn't. A brief thought of Regris doing this as some last rites hit him, then vanished. 

The worst though, out of all of his thinking, was wondering if Shiro would even let him explain when the time came. Kolivan’s words and Ulaz’s warnings interjected so easily into what he wished would happen until Keith could only picture Shiro standing before him, face and body livid and furious in its energy. He could picture the tendons in his neck straining, his fingers clenched until bones popped, his teeth bared at Keith. The only thing he couldn’t picture was whether or not Shiro would have a weapon, or attack him with just his hands and nails instead.


	19. Pilot/Ninja

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This restaurant is actually a real place! https://valentinosantamonica.com/Santa-Monica-LA-westside-Valentino-Santa-Monica-private-rooms?&domain=valentinosantamonica.com 
> 
> Of course, there is such thing as creative license and the fact that I've never been there. Thank god for limited point of view pictures that don't really help me map out the entire setting :D Would it have been easier to make my own pretend place? Yes, it would have. Did I? No.

“Try to respond to your partner instead of reacting.”  
-Abjijit Naskar

July 16, 2018  
8:27 p.m.

Santa Monica, CA  
Valentino Restaurant

It was almost adorable, Shiro’s stuttered excuse on why a homecooked meal was a no go. It matched up, too. It’d only been the third week after returning from the honeymoon to their new home. There was still some stains underneath the cabinets closest to the stove.

The stuttering made sense, the words made sense. Every part of Keith’s body hissed out a warning. It made him happy Regris had left around six, because he missed watching Keith drive home to find acceptable clothing. 

Now as we walked towards the receptionist, he forced himself to be subtle as he scanned faces. When he checked in, he thought he saw white hair, maybe sitting next to red hair that was almost orange. He didn’t get a chance to check again as he was led to a table near the private rooms. 

It was strange, seeing Shiro looking out into the restaurant, and he felt himself almost fail to continue forward, the muscles in his legs locking in a brief enough moment where he hoped it only looked like a natural pause. 

He knew how to smile when he didn’t really want to, he knew how to soften his eyes and pretend. He never wanted to do it with Shiro, not when he saw a perfectly normal smile greet him back.

It didn’t match with the way he held his water glass. Or the way his eyes darted to look at something behind him before resting back on Keith.

It made it simpler to put together a persona when he saw Shiro do the same. He sat down without bumping the table, and tilted his head to best match a teasing smile.

“Hopefully there’s no more burnt cabinets?”

Shiro laughed, and it sounded so real. “No, but maybe some pots and pans? They were getting old anyways.”

“Yeah, sometimes things need to be thrown out when they don’t work anymore.” Shiro frowned, and Keith wanted to kick himself. It was so easy to talk to Shiro, even when his skin crawled with having an entire room at his back. He backpedaled.

“It’s okay, though. Maybe we can find some later?” he tried to see if that’d help, but Shiro continued to frown. 

“I just feel bad throwing things out without trying. But maybe they were just bad to begin with.”

Keith hated that he could no longer tell if they were talking about pots and pans.

“We’ve had them for years now. Don’t tell me you’re scared of scrubbing first.” Keith tried to tease again, it didn't work.

The waiter approached them, food already at hand, and Keith look at it in surprise before meeting Shiro’s gaze again.

Shiro smiled, but it wasn’t the perfect one as before. “Hope you don’t mind, I know you get hungry after work.”

He looked down at the soup again, knowing that anyone could slip anything into it, and Keith would not even be able to tell. He picked up his spoon as Shiro did, then sighed.

“I—I know that we don’t talk a lot anymore, but I’m glad we’re doing this.” Lying came easiest from truths. “I miss you, I’m sorry it isn’t always easy being married to me.”

Shiro set his spoon down, his eyes gazing out towards the other tables. Keith questioned if it was simply him thinking, or if someone was giving cues. His eyes squinted, a miniscule twitch that Keith just managed to catch, before lifting his spoon to his bowl.

He made Keith wait while he chewed through his first bite, Keith found that he couldn’t make himself do the same. 

“Sometimes marriages don’t work out.” Keith wished Shiro kept his mouth full. He placed his own spoon down with a hard thunk.

“Well, you could have saved us a hundred dollar session if that’s how you feel.” The bitterness filled Keith faster than the wine from earlier did.

Shiro glared at him, “I didn’t know everything then. I think I know now why you always asked for more time. More—” Shiro swallowed, a grimace forming, “More... leniency.”

“Stop making it sound like it’s all my fault.”

“Isn’t it, though.”

Keith paused, and he watched as Shiro did the same. 

“Is it just the pans and our relationship we’re talking about now?”

Shiro closed his eyes, watched him twist the spoon in his hand once, and when he reopened them it was with all pretenses gone. It was a horrible confirmation, watching Shiro's reaction. It was followed by an acceptance that managed to hollow him out while forcing him into the ground. 

It made it easier this way, it was a dim thought, almost unnoticeable. Now Keith would know where he stood.

“How long did you know who I was?” Shiro's voice was still leveled.

“Only just now.” It was simple, it made Shiro narrow his eyes.

“Someone from Marmora, who worked with both Galra and Altean agents, just didn’t know.” He drifted into a mocking tone, causing Keith to grit his teeth.

“And what about you, shouldn’t you know every agent you used to work with? Or do you just suck at your job.” 

Shiro gave a legitimate growl, Keith’s hair stood on end, but before he could answer Keith continued.

“And I guess Allura and the others are what, your new team? Your team from before? You think I’m the liar, but you’re just as bad.”

“I’m not the one who betrayed fellow agents and friends.”

“I didn’t know you then to betray you.”

Shiro scoffed, “Didn’t you.”

Keith saw Shiro’s hands lower, one disappearing beneath the table. He kept his own by the soup bowl.

“I never thought you’d be one of them, Keith. I guess you’re that good at lying.”

His heart was thundering, he thought maybe he heard a gun being cocked. “So are you.”

From the corner of his eye, he saw the waiter returning. Without contemplating another option, he moved his chair back and accepted the feeling of burning hot food pouring onto his head and shoulders.

It was a rush of movements after, sharp apologies and another waiter leading Keith towards the bathrooms. He looked out into the dining room, towards the corner Shiro kept looking at. Allura and Lance glared back.

He didn’t have to look to Shiro to know he had the same look.

The rush of adrenaline and anger made it convincing enough when he snapped at the workers to leave him alone, and the moment he turned into the back hallway he started to dash towards the kitchens.

He was almost at the doors when a heavy body collided with him into the wall. He gasped, dazed for a moment, but angered eyes called him back quickly. He reached for anything to do next, and almost blindly he went for the first idea.

“You—you told me no matter what, Takashi.”

Shiro jerked back as if struck, but before Keith could use it he only pressed back harder. He could feel his collarbone bruising, could feel each whistling of breath from the pressure on his windpipe.

“Promises don’t count when everything was a lie.”

Maybe he shouldn’t have used his real name, not with the way he snarled down at him.

“So, us, what we have, it’s not worth it? You don’t know anyth—" He choked when Shiro pulled him back onto to slam him down again.

“Don’t act like this is on me, not after everything you and your agency did.”

“God, you—you really do think that.” He’d hoped, maybe that those scenarios would happen. That Shiro would listen. 

He hated it when the others were right. 

He hated the pulling and twisting that shot through his entire body that managed to surpass the pain of being grinded into a wall.

“I think that taking you as a husband was never worth this.” Those words were even worse than the rest, and Keith felt his entire body shudder.

He didn’t let himself question the easy flick and positioning of his knife, or how it rested underneath his husband’s ribs. He watched Shiro’s eyes widen, the anger replaced by disbelief.

“You really think you’re better than me? I’m not just going to roll over when you can’t even perform well.”

The words shocked Shiro even more, Keith was counting on it, and as he felt the hands loosen and Shiro move back, Keith struck. He knew his shoulder was weak, that was the first hit. He aimed next for his diaphragm. Another to his foot’s instep. 

He didn’t leave though, even as Shiro wheezed on the ground. He kept a distance, but it felt like he deserved the glare pointed his way. Like it cemented him into the hallway itself.

“What was I to you.” He didn’t want to say that, he loathed how it just oozed out.

Shiro coughed, “People who look normal don’t get noticed.”

Shiro deserved the foot connecting to his jaw. Keith didn’t regret it, didn’t even flinch as he heard Shiro’s head cracking against the ground. From behind him, he heard the gasps of those who saw, he caught a glimpse of Lance coming closer with more anger in his eyes than Shiro’s had.

He moved, slipping into the kitchen, out the delivery door. He saw Hunk by a van with a gun pointed at him and dashed towards the nearest cover. 

By the time Shiro would be able to get up, he’d make sure he was halfway across this stupid little elitist district with its stupid little restaurant that Keith never wanted to see again.


	20. Simulation/Exploration

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's a bit of a filler, but it's an important one.

“Trust is very important to a healthy marriage because your degree of trust is equal to how much you are willing to love each other.”  
-Sarah McMilon

July 16-19, 2018  
Abandoned Lot

Within the first eighteen hours, Keith found sixteen different combinations that would land the rubber ball into the trashcan on the far side of the safe room. It took at least an hour to perfect all the other ones, he was aiming for half of that with number seventeen.

The prognosis was all plotted out and ready, he just let the ball drift past the edge of his fingers, when his phone buzzed.

He stared at down at the couch cushion beside him, watching the screen flash. Bright white traced out the name Kevin, and without a second look Keith stood up to go after the ball. In the time it took for him to reach under a table and retrieve it, another call sounded. He couldn’t ignore that one.

It was the beginning of the third call that Keith finally picked up, and the disgruntled voice that greeted him almost made it worth the effort.

“Ulaz and Thace have continued tracking Voltron’s movements, it is still not time for an extraction. Next time pick up, we might be warning you about a raid.” Kolivan did always cut directly to the point.

Keith mused over the new information, a brief part of him unsure if he’d manage sitting here longer. The first three hours the night before were dedicated to post-mission decompressing. Shiro’s words, seeing nice friendly Hunk with an automatic weapon, it all resided in the part of his brain committed to his work. 

That night was all urban Keith. Soft Keith, the one who would smile at his husband and laugh along when they were invited to the neighborhood potluck. The one who would get all adamant about the newest gay advocacy debacle. 

That night, he saw Shiro standing above him at the end instead. It was his head that collided on the floor, his jaw bruised, his chest heaving. 

He felt each stomp until he woke up with a silent scream.

Six years ago, he’d killed a target like that when he saw the women he was trafficking. He knew how messy a death having your head caved in was. He didn’t know if this Shiro would mind getting that messy.

Kolivan coughed over the phone, and Keith realized how long he was taking to respond.

“I don’t think I should be extracted yet.”

It was silent for a moment, only static. “You’ve already seen that Shiro and his team will not answer the way you want, Keith.” 

“We leave now, there’ll never be another chance. You think they aren't listening now? Next time it'll be worse.” The anger would be permanent then, he knew it. It wouldn’t just be personalized pain. Shiro let emotion flood in at the restaurant, if he was a good as Keith, that emotion would be gone. Keith knew that at the moment, he wasn't just a new mark. He was too familiar to be one.

“He’s a threat to you, to anyone under Marmora. I can’t endanger my agents.”

Keith breathed out, “I know.”

Another pause, Keith threw the ball again. On the third bounce Kolivan responded.

“Do you want him to kill you, Keith?” The ball crashed into a pile of boxes and supplies.

“No, but I recognize that there was loyalty there. If we can get passed this, Mamora may have allies again.”

“And you’re willing to risk that?” 

Keith wanted to reply that he was willing to risk it for all those promises, for the fact that he was now so sure that the only reason his husband always felt distant was because of this. 

“Yes.”

“Then we will help observe from afar. Their eyes are watching for any movement from you, you can use that.”

And the line cut off.

Keith started to plan, he had another eighteen hours before he could safely reemerge into the grid, after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I always loved how Keith's character doesn't give up, even when things stack against him. I firmly believe he'd do that if he saw some sign of it working out for him or if it meant protecting those he loved, no matter what.


	21. Coping/Stress

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stress nightmares are the worst nightmares, yeah? Sorry for these last few being so short. Sometimes it's good for characters to have a little introspection.

“Simple put, a marriage is not a marriage without the existence of two individuals who promised to love one another.”  
-Jessica Gardner

July 18, 2018  
3:23 p.m.

The hallway’s light flickered, coinciding with the sway of the light bulb. It was narrow enough that Keith’s shoulders brushed against peeled wallpaper as he walked forth, the floorboards creaked even when each step was carefully placed.

He’d tracked him since the bar, watching him from afar as he paid off the driver and hurried inside to do God knows what.

Keith would make sure he succeeded in this mission, he’d make sure Kolivan would know that he could send him on more solo assignments. Part of the hardwood sank as he stepped down, making his heart stutter in the thought of the floor caving in, but he still continued until a single door greeted him.

When he walked in, four of the women and two men were dead, some deteriorated so much that Keith knew they’d been killed long ago. The others were huddled, trapped in the stench that made his eyes water and his stomach churn and jolt. 

The target tried to attack, going straight for Keith’s neck with a knife. He almost didn’t see him, his dark clothes hiding so well in the shadow, and it was only a sharp cry from one of the women that made him duck.

He dodged another swing, another and another, until he could grab the trafficker’s arm and twist it. The knife clattered, and without thinking—without even looking at his face—Keith dropped him and forced his foot down.

Again, and again, he didn’t stop until the only thing he could hear was the weak sobs from the cargo and the dripping of blood on the floor. Some of the cries sounded like Pidge, others like Lance and Hunk. He thought he heard Kolivan, then Allura, the cries becoming more and more familiar the louder they became.

When he bent down to get a better look, it was Shiro staring back with reddened eyes and a face half caved in.

\--

The safe room was filled with a scream that sounded more like a wail, it cut off with a moment of silence before sobbing started.

The shadows made it almost impossible to see his hands, only the bare outline existed in the world that he woke up to. He was sure he could see the blood though, he was so sure his feet and legs were covered, too. 

He spent the time after pacing.

Each time he stopped, his legs would ache, his heart somehow banged faster, until he continued to move. He looked down at the small table when he passed by, the plans and escape routes of his next outing strewn across the metal. He continued until he reached the far wall, then turned to start once more.

If it didn’t work, he told himself he’d allow only one memento, only one time to go to the house he called home and reclaim a reminder of this life.

He told himself it wouldn’t happen, he told himself to be ready when it did.

He told himself one failure didn’t mean the end, that Shiro made the same vows and the same promises.

He wondered if Shiro remembered them when he held Keith against the wall by his throat. 

His body let him lay down again, though he wasn’t sure the time. He knew he’d taken a nap, he knew that there was light coming from beneath the blinds. 

It didn’t help to look around and take note of his surroundings, something else he failed at.

Kolivan was right, he didn’t have another shot. He hoped the leader was wrong about it being useless. 

Even with all the words Shiro gave to him, all the embraces and kisses that seemed to lessen through their marriage, Keith had to stop himself from wondering if Kolivan was right. The clenching strain in his heart was overwhelmed by the anger that thought summoned. He’d tried, he’d really tried, and he didn’t even know if Shiro recognized that anymore.


	22. Parents/Orphan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It kind of followed the prompt? We talked about family? heh...heh heh....

“Married couples tell each other a thousand things without speech.”  
-Chinese Proverb

July 19th, 2018  
4:05 p.m.  
Lance’s Apartment

Allura’s side eye when she saw his little nest on Lance’s couch somehow made him question the last few days. It was more than the light jabs and insistent questions Lance used, or the look of pity Hunk gave when he and Pidge arrived with bags of food. 

He still sat in the mess of blankets while she took the chair nearby, causing Lance to grumble when he sat next to Shiro. Hunk and Pidge where in the adjacent kitchen, the booth style counter allowing them listen in while they prepped dinner. 

It made the blankets feel out of place, same with the itching shadow of a beard forming.

Even worse, it seemed to fade into the similar counter in his home, of Keith whispering about all the kitchen shenanigans made possible with the waist-tall island. He wracked his brain for any time that they made their small talk come true, and he knew it wasn’t the idle chattering that kept him from pulling a memory to the surface.

Just another thing they’d never done.

“I still haven’t been able to trace his escape route, it just cuts off near L.A.” The words were rhythmic as it somehow followed the beat of Pidge chopping peppers. Hunk leaned over her shoulder to check her progress, a small kiss to her cheek aborted with a jolt before glancing over at Shiro. 

“It’s the same with the agent, Thace. We don’t have enough eyes to hunt them down.” Lance leaned forward as he spoke, the words strained as he shuffled and organized the papers strewn across the coffee table. “I just don’t get it, someone with that much of a fingerprint in your life shouldn’t be this hard to find.”

Shiro scoffed, and when Lance looked back with a tinge of hesitance across his face, Shiro tried to respond with an apologetic smile.

“I’m at the point where I don’t even think I actually met any of his family? Those parents, they could have just been stand-ins. Kind of hard to find someone when it was all fake.”

Lance groaned, “God, that explains so much. I knew his cousin was too good looking to be related.” He heard Hunk groan at that before yelping when the cooking oil popped. 

“No, you didn’t. You had heart eyes the entire night.” Hunk said as he patted his arms down with a damp towel. 

“Before I realized that mullets were hereditary.”

Allura sighed, “That’s not the point here, Lance. If we can’t rely on anything shown during the last six years, then we might just continue to have an unfulfilled assignment, and I for one am not willing to let that happen.” She ended in a tone that was low enough to almost rumble, and the glare that she wore made Shiro almost certain that she would find Keith by sheer will alone.

The laptop pinged, the nose silencing everything except the faint sizzling of Hunk’s cooking. The silence ended as soon as it started when Pidge hurried over, knife still in hand, and started typing. She paused, and Shiro felt his own eyes widening along with hers, but before he could ask she turned the screen towards them.

A face washed out in sepia looked upwards, staring at whatever camera that captured his location. Even with the slight blur and distortion, it wasn’t hard to see the frown Keith wore. Or the hand, half lifted in a wave.

Pidge turned the laptop back to her, the knife now placed besides the keyboard.

“I’m accessing the location now to see if he’s still there, but it’s coming from the Pacific Park, just next to the pier.”

Hunk moved from the kitchen after placing the pan onto a cool burner, “I’ve been there, it isn’t exactly the best place to run away from.”

“Do you think it’s a trap, and he’s bait?” Allura moved to stand behind Pidge, her eyes flickering across the screen.

“No, but it feels like he’s trying to give us incentive. We don’t know much about him, but we’ve already seen him escape twice now.” Lance answered.

“So he thinks he can escape from this, too.” Shiro muttered. He could just see the screen, his eyes unable to track the changing windows and tabs Pidge pulled up. 

It took her less than five minutes before she sat back, her eyes never left the screen and neither did Allura’s. 

“He’s still there.” Allura’s voice was soft, it didn’t match how she grabbed the knife next to Pidge with more force than needed, and went to place it in the sink. 

“Oh fuck!” He turned to look back at Pidge, and this time Lance stood to stand behind her. After a moment of looking, he copied Pidge’s exclamation. Lance glanced over as Shiro started to stand, his lips curled back in disgust.

“It seems like he’s meeting up with someone, One of the Galra, Ranveig.”

It didn’t take long to move through the stockroom that took up one of Lance’s spare rooms. The movements of slipping of Kevlar and fastening a blade onto the underside of his arm before hiding it with his jacket was simple. Practiced. 

Standing near the door, waiting for the others to finish, broke that pattern. The fact that his face still itched with unshaved hair made it worse. As the others approached, he noticed Allura watching him. She only came closer.

“You almost had him last time.”

“He caught me off guard.”

Allura let an eyebrow rise.

“We’ll have him at disadvantage this time.”

She sighed, “And if you hesitate again? Tell me, are you really able to kill him?”

The others were stepping back towards the main room, and he dropped his voice to a whisper.

“He lied the entire time, to me, Allura. We might not have seen him that day, but he’s just like the ones who killed Alfor. I’ve never been more sure.”

Allura didn’t press, not even when he could feel a nervous sweat follow down the curve of his spine once seated in the car. Now even when he could see the first glimpse of the fairgrounds.

If she didn’t, then he couldn’t allow himself the time to do so either.


	23. Zodiac/Concert

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> and the concert becomes a fair, for easier writing purposes.
> 
> Thank you for reading, please enjoy!

“Even when you don’t feel like it, apologizing is what keeps your relationship together.”  
-Christian Olsen

July 19, 2018  
4:35 p.m.  
Pacific Park, Santa Monica

The smell of salt and the tide was drowned in the wafts of sugar and popcorn and, even though Keith tried not to focus on it, nearby body odor. He kept the fact that someone forgot basic hygiene buried, and instead focused on the need for constant survey of the small walk way to his left. His eyes switched to the back part of the pier and food being served there after a moment to be sure no one was circling around him.

It wasn’t the best of choices, coming onto a manmade peninsula that had too many people per square inch, but it made up for the lack of back up. The crowd would help, too. He’d seen what being trampled in a panic can do, he’d set off a fair amount of riots and frenzied swarms to know it’d be far too easy to do so again. 

He looked back towards the entrance, to the overfilled parking lot and children who managed to have identical octave jumps in their screams of joy. One of the said screams sounded behind him, causing him to jump. He settled with a small sigh, heart still managing to jump in unsteady jolts. 

He looked up towards the security camera, a twinge of annoyance shuffled in before he stood. It seemed like maybe Voltron wasn’t monitoring, then. Not if he’d been there since the pier opened. 

He started to wander through the games, weaving behind the machines to walk into the parallel side before coming to a stop near a bottle toss. Seeing it managed to stop the unsteady thumping of his heart, the memories of standing near here years ago pushed the anxious presence away and made room for the pit forming. He felt as stuck as those stuff animals swaying in the breeze.

The plastic eyes didn’t warn him as he felt a hand settle onto his shoulder, keeping him from moving away.

So he was going to play normal, then. Keith didn’t stop it, and Shiro stiffened as he relaxed some of his weight against the other. Keith only continued to watch as another player missed the bottle.

“You didn’t get it that time, either. I think it was our fourth date? You managed to throw it outside the stand.” The added pressure from Shiro’s fingers alerted Keith that he’d heard. He started to walk, pushing against the hand that Shiro refused to drop.

He wondered how normal they looked, if people could pick up the fake smile he hosted. He wondered if Shiro was even trying to do the same.

“I wasn’t trying.”

Keith laughed, “Obviously. Couldn’t let me know that your aim was above standard.”

“I guess you being sentimental wasn’t that much of a lie, then, coming here. Or are you just trying to make yourself too pathetic to shoot?”

Keith looked up, refusing to glare. Shiro wasn’t doing the same.

“Darling, I’ve never been pathetic and you know it.” 

Shiro grimaced, “I think we can get rid of the pet names now.”

“Why, I know you loved them. Sweetheart, Love. Don’t get me started with Sir, you lo—” Shiro’s arm jerked him back, the suddenness cutting his words short. Keith let him drag them away from the games, heading to the mediocre bathroom stalls that looked more like portables than anything else. 

Somehow, despite the amount of people on the pier, it was more quiet. Keith looked back towards the crowds, then turned back to Shiro as he felt the pier’s rail dig into his lower back.

“I can swim, you know.” A knife drifted over his stomach before stilling.

“I know.”

Keith refused to look down at the knife, and as he continued to meet Shiro’s gaze, he could feel it press farther against his shirt. It didn’t surprise him when his shirt gave way, when a prickle of pain spread from the knife’s point.

“Too bad I didn’t see it then, it would have made this less personal.” Keith didn’t like how hollow Shiro sounded, he grasped the other’s wrist to hold the knife still. It was a sickening feeling, knowing that Shiro let him do so.

“Killing your husband can be less personal?”

“When they’re Galra, yes.”

“I’m sorry for kicking you, but that doesn’t make me Galra.” Keith kept his grip on Shiro’s wrist, and with his other he pulled him down by the front of his shirt. 

Keith went to continue when he saw the moment Shiro’s gaze darkened, how his face twisted in a snarl. He moved quickly, twisting the wrist he held and darted away. He pushed the need to flinch away when he felt a burning line across the skin, and without another thought rushed back into the crowd.

He didn’t want to think about Kolivan being right, not now. Not when Shiro didn’t even let a conversation happen. As he dove farther into the crowd, he heard voices of concern, someone asking if that was blood, he ignored it and continued further. 

He could see the entry way when hands thicker than Shiro’s fisted into his hair and the skin of his neck, pulling him away from the crowds and back towards the side of the pier. 

“So Voltron is in contact with Marmora again.” 

He didn’t see the man speaking, but the one next to him made his head dizzy with warning bells. He’d only seen Haxus in the records Kolivan and Antok updated monthly, but he knew enough to know that he was now in far deeper waters. 

Haxus spoke, pulling out cuffs as he moved closer. “Ranveig, he don’t have time to talk now. Bind him so we can finish this elsewhere.”

Keith was tired of this. Tired of being grabbed, of feeling like a piece of meat being watched. It wasn’t Shiro looking at him, but he swore it was almost worse.

A gun going off, followed by startled scream made Keith realize it wasn’t as bad as it could be. He knew so the moment warmth splattered against his collar and exposed skin and the hand lost its grip on him. He hit the floor as fast as possible, ignoring the flare of pain when he landed on the cut across his stomach. Another shot sounded, Haxus cursing as he moved out from Keith's sight. He wasn’t sure if it was his head or Ranveig’s that was targeted, and not seeing where the shooter came from only made the panic surging forth worse. 

The sound of people panicking masked the running footsteps, and only seeing an approaching shadow made Keith roll away when a foot stomped down where his head once was. He looked up at Shiro, the instincts that kept him alive time and time again stuttering and creaking as if filled with rust. The other didn't look a thing like his husband, not with the anger that radiated out from him. 

It was a wake up call, same when he saw the glint of that knife, and it sent the clogs and gears into movement. 

He caught his arm when it plunged down towards his neck, Shiro’s cursing filled the air, and without thinking he curled his legs inward to kick back. Shiro’s eyes bulged as he sent him careening back, giving him enough time to scramble away. 

It was hard to get a perfect picture of what was around him, even with training. Not with the burning pulse if pain, not when he saw Haxus reaching into his jacket and his mind could only scream with the unknown threat that posed. He jolted to the side when Shiro’s knife embedded into a wooden support beam before him, and in his panic he didn’t hear what Haxus screamed.

The blast hit him before the sound did, the sound just registering when he crashed headfirst into the water. The pain and soreness didn’t make it difficult to swim, it was the headache and dizziness of being thrown by the force that made each stroke and kick agony. He looked back only once, when a wave went over his head, and saw half of the pier on fire.

When he dragged himself onto the beach, he looked back again to see that the back of the pier was burning, not where he and Shiro had stood. Not where Haxus had detonated the explosives. He didn’t let himself hope that Shiro wasn’t caught in the blast.


	24. Betrayal/Fame

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keith so famous, he's infamous! Voltron is definitely stalking him at the moment, but they don't want their paladin back.

“Married life is not an easy life… it requires discipline and commitment.”  
-Lindsey Schlessinger

July 19th, 2018  
7:20 p.m.

Keith made it half-way down the pier before having to backtrack. Voltron’s van wouldn’t have been so noticeable if not for that fact that the image of Hunk standing before it with a gun was still seared into his mind.

Coran and Pidge were there as well this time, all three looking out to the pier. Hunk spoke into his radio, but Keith was too far away to hear anything. Pidge looked back at Hunk, face lifting in relief, before turning to look back. 

Keith took that as a sign that Shiro cleared the blast.

It didn’t fix the fact that he was within sight of three agents that were just as adamant in hunting him down as Shiro was. Or that fact that while Hunk and Pidge seemed focused on the clusterfuck before them, Coran was scanning the parked cars and beachside. 

He ducked behind a red Honda as he turned towards his location, his water soaked hands squeaking against the metal as he gave a silent prayer that Coran hadn't seen him approach. He knew there were too many cars between him and the others, that Keith only had to stay crouched and he’d have himself an easy escape. He knew it was one of the easiest routes he had ever encountered.

The sound of approaching footsteps forced his body to peek through the car window. 

Shiro was in one piece, not the scattered remains one would expect from the amount of explosives Haxus revealed. Allura and Lance walked beside him, all three pausing at the van doors.

The dark look Shiro adorned himself with was still there, and like Coran, he also scanned the area. Keith ducked back down, his heart beating faster than when he was grabbed by Ranveig and Haxus. His stomach churning more than when it had a knife against it. He pushed it down, ignoring it just like he was currently doing with the salt sting in his cut.

He waited, until he heard the van’s engine rumble to life, refusing to even look up until its sound disappeared into the distance. 

The safe house was only a twenty minute walk, somehow it took him more than thirty. As much as he wanted to, he couldn't blame the slight limp he tried to hide, or the new headache surging over the one he gained from falling into the water for the walk becoming so tedious.

He pushed those thoughts down as well.

Keith couldn't tell if the safe house was empty when he closed the door behind him and walked inside, but he didn't hesitate in pulling off the heavy mess of sopping clothes. It’d been a pain walking in it, the denim of his jeans chafing with each step. He kept his arms crossed over his chest to hide the slash of fabric and the red peeking out from under. It didn’t hide the pink stains that spread out in a horrible tie dye.

He was on the couch with a new pair of pants and the beginnings of a bandage wrapped waist when the phone buzzed, the ring tone following. He fastened down the piece of gauze in hand before reaching to answer.

“There were no civilian casualties, but Haxus managed to escape.” Kolivan, his tone more subdued that Keith was used to.

“Is Marmora in a position to follow him?”

Kolivan sighed over the line, static rising before it calmed. “No, Regris caught remnants of Voltron tracing Haxus.”

Keith swallowed down a surge of bile, “Did that lower their eyes on me?”

Silence, not even static, before a somber “No.”

Keith reclined into the couch, his stomach twinging in disapproval. 

Kolivan continued, “Your options have significantly dropped, Keith. Even you have to see that.”

“Kolivan, I know that—”

“We don’t just recruit agents to simply let them die when there’s no need.”

Keith laughed, “Technically there’s always some form of need.”

“You see a need in this, then?” Keith quieted at those words, idling tugging on the edge of the bandages before reaching for the next roll. Kolivan didn’t continue, even when Keith sparked the static up with another sigh.

He took a moment, then another. “He won’t even stop, even if you do transfer me. It’s too personal.”

He swore he could hear Kolivan reminding him of his warnings, of letting in intimacy where it did not belong. It made him wish he’d never taken that mission, that he never stumbled in to that bar. It saved him then, but now. The wishing was enough to reignite the headache, and Keith dropped the bandage roll in favor of pressing his hand against the bridge of his nose.

“Let me clear out of here, Kolivan. Wrap things up. I’ll meet in your rendezvous.”

Kolivan’s response was immediate, “You don’t plan on arriving there, though.”

Keith started to rise from the couch, his finger reaching to end the call.

“I’ll update my status when I have the chance.”

The safe house was immersed in silence before Kolivan had a chance to respond.


	25. FreeDay (Enemy Gaze)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry, this is definitely a filler. I don't usually like outside point of views, but I thought this would add a good layer for later. 
> 
> New song! Youngblood (Acoustic) - 5 Seconds of Summer.
> 
> Also, I don't know if other people have this trouble, but apparently there is this button during chapter uploads that keeps the update date the same as the published date. I could not, for the life of me, figure out why this story was barely getting any comments, hits and kudos. I felt like crap, and then I felt stupid when I figured it out, haha.

“But marriage isn’t black and white; it’s not a paper trail, not an agreement to transform a bond to no avail.”  
-Greta Zwaan

July 19, 2018  
11:19 p.m.  
Area Unknown

There was more of Haxus’s blood scattered from the pier and to the headquarters than there was left in his veins.

Other agents watched him sway as he stood before Haggar, her husband absent from the debriefing room. Even as she watched Haxus with cold eyes, she didn’t offer a seat to him. Haxus knew better than to sit without being allowed so.

Another agent, face masked and shoulder bent in attempt to appease Haggar, moved forward with a tablet. Haggar took it without looking at them, her eyes only focused on the screen. The only sound in the room came from the clicking of nails as she scrolled through the data, with each click her face shifted into a deep scowl that carved lines into her face.

“Do we know how long these two agents have been in contact?”

The masked agent spoke, allowing his head to rise by a fraction, “Civilian records show that they have been married for six years.” 

“We overthrew Altea more than ten years ago. That is too much time unaccounted for.”

Another agent came closer, “Records of previous sightings show that it was only two years before they came into contact.”

Haggar paused, looking down at the new batch of security recordings. Her laugh was sudden, quiet yet powerful, and Haxus couldn’t blame blood loss for the chill that rack through his body.

“We can work with this. Today showed that there is animosity between the two, I can guarantee that their teams would not be able to intervene quickly were we to strike.”

“And would Zarkon approve?” Eyes turned to the speaker, those closer having to look up sd hid height surpassed most in the room. Even as his single eye glared at Haggar, she didn’t not deign him a response.

“We have Shirogane’s position, and wherever it goes, the Marmora agent will no doubt be as well. Voltron and Marmora are distracted,” she smiled, leaning back once she set the tablet down. At last she glanced over to the one-eyed man.

“Sendak, let’s thin their numbers.”


	26. Rest/Nightmares

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for being patient after such a short chapter last time! It's almost time for the big fight, guys.

“Wisdom has the ability to preserve your marriage, finances, and family!”  
-Mandy Fender

July 20, 2018  
3:30 a.m.

It took the end of his marriage for Keith to realize the diamond tiles of the kitchen weren’t angled like the bathroom’s. 

On the third walkthrough of the house the pattern caught his eye, it was glaring and so obvious that he wondered why this was the first time he noticed. He surmised that it was more than likely due to the fact that he spend most of the night on the bathroom floor, rummaging through the hygienic items and odd things that he and Shiro stored there. 

He gathered the items from their and their bedroom before moving downstairs and dumping them onto the kitchen island. Most were small knickknacks, collectables from the time they were dating. a watch, three different snow globes from the same tourist trap their found themselves in on the third summer of their marriage. All of them acquired from the first few years when Keith felt like he could walk up to Shiro and ask what he wanted to do for their next outing or vacation.

Back when Shiro would answer, on nights where they would rest shoulder to shoulder on the futon now replaced by the leather couch that cost more than their tv. He and Shiro spent hours shifting through online pictures, different destinations that even Keith had never been to. He wondered now if Shiro lied about the places being new to him as well. 

Keith scooped one up, hands shaking to the point that he feared dropping the ceramic frame. It was the most ridiculous thing they owned, the frame housing a picture from one of the most unlucky dates either experienced.

The night started well enough, Keith remembered how Shiro kept a firm grasp on his hand. Each step followed by Shiro rubbing his thumb against the knuckles beneath it. They managed to get ten feet onto the dock, the sound of the farmer’s market fading behind them and the sunset warming their faces, when a plank snapped beneath Keith. Shiro tried to stop him from falling, Keith tried to stop it too.

They shared a wide eye gaze before tumbling into the waves. 

By the time they made it to the market again, everything was closed. It took a ten minute walk to the car followed by another ten minutes to get to a store. They were halfway through the aisle when Keith looked up to Shiro.

“We can just go home and change, Shiro.” Shiro took a moment to reply, the silence making each nerve curl inside Keith.

“It takes forty minutes for that, Keith. We’ll miss the movie.”

“Then we can just rent one at home, get ourselves warm and everything.” He kept his tone light, as airy as he could. Shiro made a noise of disgust as he examined the shirt he held before shoving it back onto the racks.

“Well, that’s just great then.” He didn’t look at Keith, he wondered if he’d receive a glare as well if Shiro did.

Keith picked a new outfit with enough quiet to make him feel as if the entire store watched them, and it was almost a palpable relief when Shiro left to try on the clothes.

He was so used to changing clothes while running from threats and on the trips back home to Shiro that Keith didn’t need to follow suit. He moved back to the front of the store, to the only cashier still left. He just managed to swallow down a groan when he saw the line. The ladies in front of him didn’t, and it caused the entire line to shift with impatience.

The line dropped down to only two before him when Shiro moved into the empty space by his side, his hand seeking out Keith’s waist before resting part of his weight against him. It was a bit much, but he welcomed the creaking of his joints as he kept Shiro balanced, and it didn’t take long before Shiro pulled him in so Keith could nestle closer. 

The ladies in front of them noticed, and while Keith tried not to remember most of it, really it was more of forcing himself not to in a desperate attempt to let go and forget the anger they billowed in him, he did remember how Shiro left in the middle of their comments. How the coldness seeped into the damp clothes no longer pressed against the other. One lady commented at that, and Keith wouldn’t call it anything less than a sneer marring her face. She may have tried to parade it as a wry smile, but it somehow managed to be more condescending than any of Kolivan’s reprimands combined. Keith knew he went to make his own snide comment about it, but the words weren't truly formed before Shiro returned

Shiro announced his presence by turning Keith around, pushing him against his shoulder until all of his weight rested in the crook there, and lifted his camera until it looked down on their faces. Shiro didn’t let go after the flash, but he let Keith fix his position until he could look down at what Shiro carried.

The frame was a mess of bedazzled jewels and wavy edges. Bright orange and green glazed polka dots made symmetric lines. Keith hated it, but he loved the sudden image forming inside his mind that it and Shiro’s picture created. 

He had been bothering Shiro about owning more memorabilia of themselves, and when he craned his head to grin up at Shiro he saw that Shiro was doing the same.

Now, the frame lost most of the jewels, one side chipped and cracked after it had went on an unexpected fall. The ladies were out of the shot, one leg just peeking from the side to prove that they once existed. Back then, he thought the green and orange and fake bling was the worst thing of the entire thing. Now as he saw the smiles staring back at him, the ugly decorations were displaced, a new contender claiming first place.

He sat down on the counter with a small grunt next to the now declared pile of shit and stared out towards the family room. He kept the stove light on as his only source of light deemed safe enough, and the glow only allowed a blurred outline of the couch to be seen amidst the shadows.

As lights from a passing car illuminated the room, Keith placed the frame down before the need to throw it grew to be too much. 

Kolivan would be expecting a report soon, along with Keith next to him and giving it in person.

The pile of shit kept him fastened to the same counter.

It wasn’t an excuse, when he told Kolivan that Shiro would not stop hunting him. If anything, he knew that much about his husband.

He pushed the pile into the sink, hearing the clinking and thuds as it met stainless steel, before moving off the counter. Keith knew Shiro found most of his niches, just like he knew that it had been a half-assed job. The stairs made no sound as he moved up towards the spare room, the door just letting out a faint whine before he slipped through. 

Shiro should have checked under the mattress.

Just like he should have made sure Keith wasn’t his enemy, like he should have checked each piece of evidence and moment of their marriage. He grimaced as he disassembled the gun, checking each piece to keep his hands busy.

Kolivan was right, and Keith hated that. The idea that within hours, maybe days if he was lucky, Shiro would find him again. Would place a knife on him again, or maybe the muzzle of a gun. He hated that the last few times, he let Shiro. 

He hated the idea of him winning the next round, of another chest becoming a sheathe. He couldn’t stop the wave of nausea, even as he leaned to rest his head against the shifted mattress. His breathes came in shuddering waves, each one making his stomach heave more. 

The thought of his own chest replacing Shiro’s made the shuddering lessen, and he knew that Kolivan wouldn’t be receiving a report after this. He’d put up a fight, make sure that Voltron wouldn’t forget than Marmora was a name to be respected. 

But he couldn’t, not even with the gun now assembled in his hands and the knives resting in their packaging. The thought made the shaking in his hands disappear, and the clicking of each bullet being loaded into the clip cemented it further. Shiro was right, after all. Keith was a good actor, he knew what was needed and what had to be done, and there were enough agents left that Kolivan and the others would still be able to function without him.

He should have used that fact and asked for an early retirement years before this happened. Maybe then they would have enough time to fix things. 

He had the third and final clip loaded when his phone rang.


	27. Sports/Stargazing

“Most marriages can be saved by improving how both partners communicate with each other.”   
-Jennifer N. Smith

July 20, 2018  
4:00 a.m.  
.  
It was a sleepless night, the desk between the six of them strewn with papers and half-filled cups of coffee. In the kitchen, steam from a new batch of coffee wafted from the counter. Shiro had no shame in admitting that he was now on his fifth cup, not when he could look over a Pidge and see her nursing on her ninth while typing with a single hand. 

Hunk’s head nestled down next to Lance, the smaller man using the softer part of his shoulder to support his head. Allura sat next to them with Coran, both shifting through the new batch of papers that Pidge printed only minutes prior. 

Neither had given an assignment to him, the fact that two of them slept after finishing their own pile showed just how much of a dead end the pier was. He should have been resting his eyes as well, waiting for the next sign of life that Keith was out there. That he’d survived the pier.

Shiro didn’t see where Keith fell, only thinking of pushing Haxus away from the crowds. He only succeeded in keeping him near the rails when Lance forced him beneath the metal foundations of the ferris wheel. The blast was deafening, the concussive blow felt even through their makeshift barrier. When Shiro looked up after, he could see how it was malformed and bent, how the wheel above them leered down upon the screaming crowds. 

There’s been no sign of Keith, and very little left of the Galra Lance shot.

Shiro drained the rest of his coffee in one gulp, his throat protesting at the sudden pressure of too much being forced down. Shiro stood to collect another round of caffeine, the table jolting beneath him with the uncoordinated movement, and with a slight groan, Lance raised his head. His gaze was unfocused as Shiro turned from it, but when he returned it was with him, the others, and even Hunk watching him with more clarity than he possessed himself.

“I thought Allura said to sleep.” Lance cut straight to the point, impatience dripping and swirling with each word. Shiro didn’t blame him for that, it permeated all of them, the need to finish what should have ended days ago.

Pidge answered for him, “She did, before his third cup. He’s on number six now.”

“At least I haven’t hit a baker’s dozen.” Shiro grumbled back. Pidge only snorted, her eyebrow raised before her nails clicked against her keyboard.

“It’s ten, not thirteen, Shiro. God, get it right.”

Lance let out another groan, the sound cutting in and out as Hunk patted his back. Allura mimicked the sound, pushing the papers towards the middle of the table before resting her head down face first. 

“you know, how much would you bet that he’d just answer your call, huh? Like, to be even more antagonistic and evil.” Lance finished in more of a mumble than actual words, but the table was small enough for Shiro to make out what was said.

Allura looked up, eyes wide. “Any good agent would see that as a trap. We have the programs to track it, and he’d know that.”

“Yeah, that’s why I added it being antagonistic. A big ol’ fuck you.” 

Shiro sighed, the coffee now contributing to a rising headache. He looked back up to see Hunk watching, and he knew that if he sat any closer, he’d be at risk for a reassuring pat. Something that had once been his trademark before Hunk adopted the trade of team support. 

Shiro had been begrudging in admitting that Hunk owned the position better than he ever had, before recognizing the importance of it. Shiro knew that no amount of Hunk’s words or actions would make this better, though. It was less begrudging to admit that, of all things. 

“If he does answer, than we will be able to respond. Triangulate his position before he can escape once more.” Allura grew silent once she finished before continuing once more. “He won’t be able to escape once entrapped. Lance will be able to make his shot then.”

“No.”

The coffee machine chose that moment to whirl into silence, the cycle finished. Pidge made no sound as she and the others looked at him. Shiro grimaced at the attention, and forced himself to swallow down the still too hot coffee.

“You know we can’t just let him go, Shiro.” Hunk’s voice was too quiet, almost fading into the quiet. 

“I’m not saying that.”

“Then what, just watch from afar and hope something else kills him?” The fatigue was fulling immersing Lance in bitterness then, his voice scorched irritancy that scratched and pulled against Shiro. He had to stop himself from responding in kind.

“No, I will.” 

Pidge nodded, her face hidden as she turned from Shiro. Allura did no such thing, neither did the others. Coran only looked at him with a look of sadness that had only marred his face once in the time that Shiro knew him.

“You want to be the one, then.” Despite the frown he carried, Coran did not stumble over his words. Shiro only nodded.

Lance cut in, the aggravation still on the surface, but now watered down. “We already know this is personal, Shiro. You can’t expect us to let you kill your husband. Even if he was Galra the entire time.”

Lance stopped when Shiro spoke, “But I do, Lance. I told you before, this is something that I need to do.”

“You do this, you won’t ever forgive yourself, Shiro.” Hunk peered from behind Lance, turning to Pidge as she hummed in agreement.

“Hunk’s right, Keith got under your skin. He owns too much of you.”

“And I don’t own enough of him, right?” It was fermented and noxious, the feeling of contentment those words brought when it silenced his team. It mixed in a concoction of nausea and vertigo when he saw the shame and pity there. When they wouldn’t meet his gaze.

Shiro didn’t let it persist, “If I let one of you do this, I won’t be able to look at you the same every again.” 

He saw Lance, then Hunk standing where he had been, pushing Keith against the rails. He could imagine the knife crunching and sliding further in. The red on Keith’s shirt now on his lips and staining both teeth and tongue. The look of sadness never reciprocated as someone besides himself made the final blow.

He imagined watching from afar, looking through windows in their house. On the ferris wheel. From across the street as a bullet knocked him from his feet. He wouldn’t be there in time to still see life clinging to Keith’s body.

Shiro gave his entire focus to the cup in front of him, even as Allura exhaled. 

“Then we’ll provide the back-up needed, and only engage if needed.”

Shiro didn’t see the other’s reactions, but the sound of Pidge’s fingers falling harder against the keyboard with each click and the silence from where Hunk and Lance sat alerted Shiro to what they thought of this.

Shiro reached towards the middle of the table, to his phone that was nestled between and underneath discarded print outs of maps and locations. Hunk’s hand pressed above his own once it was in his grasp. Shiro finally looked up then, desperate to try and build a defense against the resignation he saw there.

“Just promise you won’t hold back, because he won’t.”

Shiro nodded, and without giving himself more time to think, he pressed down on Keith’s icon.


	28. Protect/Attack

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Well, this chapter was a bitch. Word crashed three different times. Each time, I was halfway through. without saving.... I may have rage quit. I am also back in classes and student teaching, so that didn't help either.
> 
> Thank you for waiting, I'm pretty happy with this chapter.

“Marriages are fragile. They must be nurtured and protected if they are to survive for a lifetime.”  
-James Dobson

July 20, 2018  
4:10 a.m.

Keith didn’t know how to respond when he saw Shiro’s grin staring up at him. The buzzing was insistent, enough that it caused his fingers to reach for the accept call before he managed to yank himself back. His grin was still staring, wide and so unlike the dark look from the pier.

He answered as the buzzing started its third round, silence greeting him for only a moment before he heard the rasp of Shiro’s voice.

“I didn’t think you’d actually pick up.”

A slight muttering of voices accompanied his voice, so faint that Keith couldn’t make out their words. He knew those tones, though. The higher pitch of an agitated Lance. Of Hunk responding. Keith swallowed down whatever was pushing up his throat before responding.

“I could never ignore you, Darling.”

“That’s funny, i thought that was most of our marriage.” It was only Shiro’s voice that now came across, and with a huff he set the phone down before switching to speaker.

“You know, the last few days, I’ve been going through all of our things. I didn’t realize until now, but most of it is really just shit.” He reached towards the now filled sink as he said that, grabbing on to the first thing there. He pulled it up, then almost winced. 

He didn’t have time to put the frame back and choose another, not with Shiro waiting for a response. He continued, straightening the muscles in his back until he towered over the counter. 

“After all of this, it’s almost worthless, really. Like this frame, remember that date? When we ended up at the store?”

Shiro cut in, “What do you mean, Kei-“

He silenced the other with the shattering of ceramic and glass, inches away from the phone and the smile that refused to look away. Shards scattered across the counter, some falling towards the ground while pieces tumbled into the sink. Most buried the picture, though, the dust sticking to the sleek film. The silence was all encompassing as the pieces settled, all but the harsh breathes that came from across the line. It didn’t take long for Shiro to respond.

“I should have never fucking loved you.”

“It’s too late for that, isn’t it?” Keith didn’t let himself pause as he responded. He continued, cutting the other off, “Look, all your pretty words and declarations mean shit when you’re sitting next to your friends, far, far away from me.”

“Get to the point, Keith.”

He smiled, hoping that the bite of it would somehow translate through his words. “I’m not running anymore, Shiro. I know you’re tracking me,” He let out a laugh, hoping it flooded over the others, “I even gave you a hint. With all our things. Even you should understand that.”

“And how do i know you’ll really be there, you’re always good at running.”

“I like watching people stick their foot up their asses, Darling.”

He heard the first sound of Shiro’s response, a sharp consonant that curled into his chest. He didn’t know if it followed into a growl, or whatever Shiro thought best suited him now. He wondered if it’d be something different, but the first word wasn’t even uttered before Keith cut the call off.

He was left in the silence then, with the beginning of grey light creeping across the counters and window sills. The stove light nearly snuffed it out, but he knew that soon it would be overpowered. He looked down at the remains of the picture frame, before moving to unbury the photo, all awhile ignoring the sharp prodding of sharpened edges and splintered needles. Once unburied, he held it up towards his face, unable to look away from yet another grin.

It made him wonder, if this had been real or not. If Shiro would have given those smiles to someone else just as easily. He folded it twice, then once more for good measure before slipping it into his back pocket. The moment his hand came back up, it was to reach for the weapon cases. 

It was after five by the time he had the last knife sharpened and ready, the bright green numbers staring back at him as he checked. He moved to turn the stove light off, the morning light now strong enough to give some color last shadows of night. He moved back, rechecking the knives before strapping them on. the clock showed thirty minutes had passed, and it almost made him wonder when he’d gotten so slow. If maybe he was letting himself get away with dragging his heels in. 

He toyed with two of the blades beneath his sleeve before unsheathing them. He placed one in the family room, another in the hallway by the kitchen. He went up to the planter alway up the stairs and embedded the third behind it. It was only three steps back down when he paused, his hand resting on the grip of the second gun he carried. He quickly went back up and placed the gun against dry soil.

He wondered when they had last watered the poor thing as a closer inspection showed the slight wilt and browning of the leaves. 

He left the planter alone and returned to the kitchen, the clock turning to six just as he entered. 

“He’s going to make me wait, then.” The words were mostly a thought, a mess of mumbling that would have made no sense to another. It burned through him, though, until he could only level a heated glare at the clock. 

As soon as he did so, he made himself look away. It wouldn’t do him any good, and with a groan he made himself sit on one of the island chairs. It took another hour before he let himself begin to think, the clock showing a bright 7:20.

Shiro would no doubt continue hunting down the others, he knew he wouldn’t be the last. He wondered what Kolivan would do with the knowledge that not even marriage could convince Voltron to end their feud. Maybe that’d be the push, the final straw. 

He didn’t want to think about the possibility of Shiro making it quick, or if he’d drag it on. The pier had been a clusterfuck, but the angle that Shiro would have stabbed him didn’t spell out a fast death. It’d wouldn’t been messy, slow. Did Shiro think about that.

Keith didn’t want to be shot and stabbed over and over again, he really didn’t. But the alternative was worse, of seeing glazed eyes staring back. 

It was past nine when he heard a car squeak to a stop, another minute before he saw the head of Shiro’s shadow as it approached the front door. He slid from the chair, crouching as he moved into the hallway. He was behind the china hutch when he heard the door open.

It clicked shut, followed by a strained laugh, “Can’t even lock the door behind you, Babe?” 

He didn’t bother to answer, instead pulling a knife from his boot. It was number five out of all of them, another tucked against his forearm. He still had three more scattered, an so without a second thought he sent it slicing through the air, towards Shiro’s good shoulder.

He didn’t stay to watch, hearing a startled cry and the metal embedding into the door with a dull thud. He was down the hallway and into the family room before he heard Shiro’s own footsteps. It was easy to have the gun out and safety off before Shiro even cleared the entryway, his eyes widening as he scrambled back from Keith’s next shot.

“What, can’t you even fight, Babe?” the smile wasn’t even half-assed, not with how natural the movement felt. 

He had to move back fast, his hip clipping the couch as Shiro fired from his temporary cover. The stumble was all it took for Shiro to move in, gun still in hand. Keith hated that someone could be as fast as him. Shiro crashed the grip down against his head, Keith just pulling back for it to pull against his skin. It burned hot, the sudden pain, but it was better than any concussion. 

He scrambled back, Shiro following, as Shiro ducked under his next shot, he didn’t hesitate to force his head back down into his knee. 

Shiro went down with a garbled ‘fuck’, his eyes streaming with tears as blood gushed from his nose. 

Keith took the opportunity to kick his gun away. 

“You know, the neighbors hate language like that. What would their kids say?”

Shiro’s hand shot out, wrapping around his ankle, and Keith found himself falling before he could kick it away. The other wasted no time in pinning Keith down, his hand twisting around the fine bones of his wrist and fingers until he could no longer stifle a cry of pain. 

His gun was pushed away with a sharp twist, disappearing to where Shiro’s went.

He loomed over him, eyes narrowed and teeth bared, “Not as bad as a dead body.” He grabbed Keith’s other wrist, stopping him from using his last knife. The same relentless grip grinder the bones together, Keith wondered if he’d end up with broken bones.

“With…with which hand,” It came out in gasps, Shiro now digging his knee further into his stomach. Shiro answered by lifting him up, his upper body suspended as Shiro let go. Before he could readjust, to use the sudden freedom, he was pushed down hard by his shoulders. 

It was hard to ignore the crack as bone met hardwood floor, just like the headache now forming behind his ears and down his neck. Shiro grasped the wrinkled collar there, moving to repeat the action, before pushing himself away and onto his feet to dodge Keith’s knife.

it’d been downright horrible, trying to unsheathe it, but now he held it between them, his hands shaking as he tried to blink away the pounding in his head. 

“You can’t even make it quick, can you?” Keith moved first, a snarl to push down the pain. He knew he’d let Shiro have this, knew it the moment he saw Shiro in the alleyway, the moment Kolivan asked if he’d come back.

He reminded himself of that as he tore through Shiro’s bicep, as Shiro hissed in pain when Keith went for another cut. His hand was grabbed, pulled down and yanked as he was spun around. Keith kicked back, low into Shiro’s instep, and jumped away once the grip loosened.

He was down the hallway and to the stairs when he made a hard dodge to his left, watching Shiro bounce against the wall. the other growled, angrier than before.

“You said no more running!”

He had, God, he had. He let Shiro step in closer, let himself stumble back with a gasp when he saw that Shiro had one of his knives now. 

He let himself land on his back again in an attempt to dodge an incoming swipe, landing with a sharp gasp, the planter just within his line of sight. The gun glinting alongside the knife.

When Shiro moved down to pin him, Keith didn’t stop it. Not even when he felt the edge of the knife rasp against his neck. Shiro was breathing harder than him, though Keith was sure it was only because he was trying to keep his neck still against the pressure. 

“It looks like the Galra have lost their touch.” Shiro’s breath was evening then, though his body tensed against his own. Keith frowned, wondering if he had made it too easy. If that small cut wasn’t enough. 

The grip on the knife tightened as Keith gave out a shuddering exhale, the edge finally biting in enough to cut. Keith watched as Shiro only stared down at it, his eyes flickering before looking back to Keith’s.

“I should have never loved you.” It was empty, how he repeated those words. Dull unlike when Keith heard it across the phone. Like now, without that distance, it could only take on a new form to survive. He felt Shiro shift, his body burning with the same restlessness as the one above him as Shiro came closer. Despite that, he remained limp.

“Never even trust you.” Shiro whispered, Keith could imagine that accompanied with a whine, thin and reedy and desperate for some form of reassurance that this was not really happening. 

Keith didn’t care then that speaking pressed the blade farther in, that the cut lengthened until a small tinkle tickled down into the find hairs of his neck.

“I never lied about that.” It was hard to make his voice loud, but it remained steady. Even as Shiro moved back in a small flinch. 

Kolivan would have been proud, knowing that for once his chest didn’t feel like it was twisting and concaving into itself as Shiro frowned. As he angled the knife until it rested until the point dipped between tendons. 

He knew he wouldn’t regret this decision, even when he wondered what Shiro would do after his body cooled and Shiro moved on.

He refused to look away as Shiro stared down, as the tip dug in once again.


	29. Day 29: honesty/Lies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I...I have no excuse for being so late, but let's blame student teaching? Thank you for all the wonderful comments and love you've given me and this fic. It means so much to me to know that you enjoy this.
> 
> quick update: just edited a bit. 11/5/18

“Marriage is over in an hour, and yet it takes a lifetime to be really married.”  
-E Stanley Jones

Shiro could count on a single hand the amount of times he regretted killing a target. Two of them had been guilty by association, though at the time Alfor was not willing to take the risk of keeping them alive. He’d been right, of course, when they’d found out two weeks later that the couple were more involved than first assumed. 

It didn’t make breaking in through the window, or having the husband beg for mercy, for help of any kind, easier.

Missions didn’t have to be understood at the time, Alfor taught him. The fall of Altea also reminded him that you didn’t have to understand the betrayal in order to seek vengeance.

But the body below him, ribs creaking and shuttering between the weight of his own body in a painful grind, lungs fighting for breath, grew still as he pushed the knife against skin. Keith’s eyes trembled closed before gazing up to meet his own.

He’d dedicated so much to this man. 

Keith answered back to words Shiro felt ghost away from his lips, unwanted yet pulled from him by the other, and in an attempt to regain control, he adjusted the knife once more. Keith only continued to stay back.

He’d been taught not to ask questions, but for once he wished there was more that he knew. More of anything at this point. Their marriage wasn’t the best, he’d realized that when the sound of Keith dashing whatever it was over the phone. He realized it a year back when Keith moved back their councilor session yet again. He’d been too complacent then, too willing to continue their avoidance with their silent dinners and snide remarks.

Shiro refocused his thoughts, drawing in the face below him in a last attempt to discern something—anything. 

Why Keith looked as tired as each bone and sinew felt in him, his body limp now as he only waited for whatever came next. Shiro stopped himself from leaning further as he tried to glean more, whether it was from wanting to keep Keith alive a while longer or simply a gut instinct for more information.

“How long did you know?” Shiro let out a range of internal curses with how soft it came out, with how tired eyes below him widened as they studied him in turn before Keith let out a short breath. Shiro grabbed his shoulder, giving it once hard shake, “How long?”

“If I told you only within this last week, would you believe it?” 

Shiro shook off the chill the response gave him, so different from the sarcastic drawl from earlier. From the dismissive snark on the pier. He pressed the knife down, convincing himself that the jump of his heart was from satisfaction. That Keith flinching could somehow become the last push he needed to finish all of this. Shiro added another question instead.

“What is Marmora planning now with Zarkon, wha—” Keith's body ignited in a desperate move, arms jerking towards his own, and he tried to pull back as Keith lunged for the knife, fire flaring in his eyes for a brief moment before Shiro’s fist knocked him back. 

His head knocked against the floor hard, the sound only making the burning rush of anger stronger, made Shiro put more weight into pinning Keith down.

“Of course you won’t answer, after all this, after every lie.” 

Keith grew limp once more, and the confusion that intermingled with all the anger Shiro let loose only made it worse, made his sight blur and his lungs feel like each intake of air was unfulfilling. Was this how Keith was going to end this—break down a head piece of Voltron and leave the rest to the remaining Marmora?

His pants were louder than Keith’s now, and he couldn’t tell who was shaking more. The only thing he knew was that the shine of metal grazing against Keith’s neck no longer felt like the answer. No longer felt like it'd erase all of the trouble this was causing. He swallowed, trying to steel each muscle in his hand . Even while he began to press down for a final time, he only wanted to command each and every truth out from the man he’d called his own.

“I’m sorry I failed you, Shiro.” It was muttered, almost unheard, but it was enough to deadlock all of Shiro’s body together. He couldn’t tell before whose body shook the most, not with his own moving and jolting in an attempt to revolt, but now he was sure that it was mostly from Keith. 

He was sure of it when the knife cut further in as other let his head fall back without care, his chest heaving until Shiro could only lift the knife away. His voice was thin, strained with the lack of air from each growing gasp. Shiro only watched, eyes widened. 

He’d only felt regret for his targets a handful of times, regret in not knowing more or from acting too soon.

Likewise, he’d only seen Keith cry that same amount of occassions. 

Despite the difficulty that each sob caused, Keith somehow managed to force words out, staring up at Shiro. “Just finish it, stop—stop drawing it out!” The twist of his brow, mirrored by his lips, forced Shiro to reflect it on his own face.

He turned the knife in hand, his thumb rubbing against the edge before returning to the broad side of the blade. He watched as Keith’s eyes darted to the movement then back. Shiro’s thoughts ran wild, chasing after some hidden prey that he hadn’t wanted to see before. The ease of disarming his enemy, a member of an elite group that had never made their capture easy before. 

With a mental shake, he tried to convince himself that each look Keith had given him since the truth was unleashed was a hidden glare, a smug smile as if he was a small child now privy to every problem and every horror the world once hid. The others made it easy to think that, and with a groan he tried to push then away from his inner thoughts. 

They didn’t know Keith like he did. 

They didn’t come home to see him so tired that he never made it passed the living room couch. 

They never saw how much love a single face could hold while staying back at him.

He dropped the knife at that fault, his heart churning into itself as he saw Keith jerk at the sound before moving off of the other until he could collapse on the floor. This was all wrong, so damn wrong, and for a moment Shiro felt like he too would begin to heave and sob with the weight of all this. 

After a moment Keith sat up in a series of hesitant, half-made movements, never looking away as if Shiro would change his mind. He let Keith sit up fully before continuing. 

“Do you think we could have fixed this, in the end?” Shiro gestured weakly between them before letting his arm fall back down.

“I don’t know.” Keith’s voice had calmed, though his body still shook from the last few gasps still trapped within him. Shiro didn’t know how to fix that, either. Keith called him name, a frown growing as he forced himself to continue, “Would you have wanted to?”

He wanted to pretend that it was an invitation, a new chance. Instead he answered, “Would you?”

“Yes.” 

It came with no pause, no hesitance, and with those words Shiro acted before he could make any excuse not to. He half expected Keith to retaliate as he quickly pulled him against his chest, his body tensing as it waited for a burst of pain or some form of resistance. They knife was only inches away, his neck could break easily. Keith could overpower him without a though as Shiro let him rest above his own body. 

He wasn’t expecting warm lips to meet his own, or a shaky sigh melding into his own breath as Keith pushed even closer in.

The moment Keith pulled back, Shiro drew him back for another, then one more when he realized Keith was just as willing to continue. They'd never been this desperate, their kissing and holding never as raw or open. His body ached with that thought, and as he pulled away again, Shiro instead dipped his face until it rested below his chin. Keith’s arms tightened, and soon he felt each rise and retreat as their chests fell into the same, familiar pattern.

He'd almost lost this. He’d almost stopped the other half to this movement. It was his turn to gasp out now, no longer contained as the intake shifting into a sob. 

“I’m so sorry, Keith, so sorry.”

Tears fell down onto the curve of his cheek, joining his own, “I am, too.”

In the back of his mind, he knew he’d have to alert the others soon, that he’d need some form of reasoning to protect Keith from them. For now, though, he knew that he could not think of any other place he’d rather be.

As Keith leaned back, Shiro followed until they both rested on the hardwood, the hands on his back migrating up until they carded through his hair. He didn’t know what Keith was thinking, though he could guess with the strains of tension that still round its way through the body below him, knowing that he did the same. But he knew that this was something that could never be lost again. Next time, it'd be permanent. Next time, there'd be no remediation. That now, he’d have to prove that to Keith. To his team. And, though it was something he had to force himself to accept, to the rest of Marmora as well. 

He took in another breath, forcing his body even closer against Keith's, memorizing what he had somehow gained back.


	30. Day 30: Feline.Hippopotamus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This really doesn't fit in with the prompt, but I had almost a 100% image of kitty sheith learning to readjust to being around one another again. Like, okay, I can trust you again, but god that's really really hard.
> 
> Only one more chapter left, guys. Thank you so much for sticking with me!

“No matter what the two of you have to face, it is possible to get through it together as long as you both have confidence in the marriage and in one another.”  
-Tyler Ceneen

 

It took more than Shiro thought it would, relaxing underneath a gaze that was once hostile. Allowing arms to pull him in as close as they could until it felt like their very ribs merged into one.

It took more than he thought, hearing stories of Marmora. Learning about what had happened at Altea all those years ago. He absorbed it all much better than Allura would have, he was sure. His ability to nod along didn’t erase the sour taste, though. It didn’t negate the need to intercept each word that Keith whispered against his skin, to rebuttal it all. 

But each gasp when his fingers brushed against bruises, when Keith would begin rasping as his story abused his throat further until Shiro would slink back downstairs to get water, returning to wary eyes and breathing made shallow from hidden fear—that kept him quiet. It made him sink deeper into the sheets they had both dragged themselves into once the floor’s unforgiving presence forced them to move. It made him need to feel skin against his fingertips, to seek out the warmth that reminded him that he made the decision to fix this as much a they could.

They both let the discussion falter and fall away as Keith finished, the only sound coming from limbs shifting and the rasps of air circling through their chests.

“Kolivan must think I’m dead by now.” Keith whispered as the quiet finally felt unbearable. 

He had shifted onto his back only a while ago, a stifled groan as the muscles along his stomach were forced to stretch. Shiro tried to look at it, using the excuse that explanations where now over. They they needed a new distraction. His fingers had just started to lift sweat dampened fabric before Keith slapped them away.

Shiro nodded, his fingers grazing Keith's as they inched down towards his pocket, where his phone rested so heavily against his thigh. A reminder of what had to happen next.

“My team probably think the same.” The gnawing cold within him resumed its feasting with that, the knowledge that none of this could work—that it shouldn’t. Even after knowing about Marmora now.

Keith twisted until he could capture Shiro’s gaze, “Allura won’t hurt you for failing this, Shiro. She isn’t like that.”

It went unspoken that the same couldn’t be said for Keith. Shiro broke the stare off, grunting with the exertion it took to sit up.

“We can’t keep doing this, knowing that the Galra were at the pier, too? That they’re more than likely hiding their actions behind Marmora.” He drifted off, his voice no longer calling forth each of the thoughts rattling within him, and after a brief moment he reached for his phone. 

“Allura can’t ignore this anymore.”

Keith moved to sit next to him, their shoulders brushing against one another. “It’s going to take an end of the world event to get Kolivan to agree, too.” He paused, hands twisting into the sheets. “Kolivan would be less likely to kill you right off the bat.”

Shiro pulled Keith against him, forcing him to relax as he buried his face into thick hair, forcing himself to shake the last bits of doubt and fear that all of this was just another trick. He felt the last of it fade as each piece of tension he felt in the other shed off. Each breathe shaking it away from them until it could no longer find purchase within them. He briefly wondered if it would return, if it’d be more like a stain the next time, but he forced those thoughts down.

“Distance would be better. Voltron should be arriving soon, as backup and—and, to finish everything.” Keith’s handed rested against his thigh with that stumble, and the shaking he felt against his knee only served to remind Shiro of a shaking chest beneath him. Of eyes darting across his face, wild and desperate before fading into acceptance. Of a blade just starting to be stained in a new color.

Keith squeezed at the muscles, “How long, then? They won’t like me keeping you away from them.”

“You won’t be.”

Another squeeze followed by a dry laugh, “And they’ll see it like that?”

Shiro moved to pull away, his hand still braced against Keith’s back, when the sound of shattered glass and the front door careening against the wall below them shot through them. Keith was the first to scramble off the bed, reaching for the knife Shiro had dropped on the floor the moment they entered their bedroom. Shiro wrestled away blankets until he found the gun left at the end of the bed, an unspoken compromise the two had made.

Keith stood before him now, his back willingly bared as if without knowing the danger behind him, but Shiro could see the slight look he casted back at him. The look became more as Keith shifted more towards Shiro, his eyes still focused towards the empty hallway.

“I’ll always have your back, Shiro. Do you have mine?” 

“Always.”

The words were just cut off as a fiery explosion burst through the lower levels, as memories filling the sink caught on fire and dispersed into ash. The brunt of the blow sent up debris and splinters of wood upwards into the second floor, towards the two now standing by the doorway.

\----

Voltron had given Shiro more than enough time to fix the problem, and it was with that in mind that Allura didn’t fight Lance demanding that they head towards the house. The others were eager enough when she finally agreed, what with how they nearly careened against the side of the van with how fast they tried to leave.

They were just pulling out into traffic when Allura’s phone gave out a loud buzz, drawing each person’s attention. She pulled open the app, her face morphing into a frown as she read the text aloud.

“Allura, we need to talk.”

Lance frowned from the driver’s seat, looking ready to speak before another buzz happened.

“’You might not want to think Marmora as anything but our enemy. I get that—' What, the text just ended with that, what is happening?” Allura looked up at Lance, her voice sharpening with the tension washing over them, “Get us there. Now!” 

Another buzz, and Pidge grabbed the phone from Allura’s hands, reading the text as they hooked the phone into their computer. Allura pulled herself closer so she could still read it to the others.

“The house is gone, Allura. I have full evidence that Marmora isn’t the threat.”

Pidge cut in, “Well isn’t that just great? How much do you want to bet Keith is leading him along with this, too?”

Hunk nodded, his eyes glued onto the phone’s screen, “We never should have let him do this.”

The car’s brakes screeched as Lance swerved, a string of curses sounding from the front, “I swear, if he gets Shiro killed, I’ll make him beg before dying.”

Another buzz, the words flashing on the screen before being mirrored on the computer.

‘We need backup, for both me and Keith. He’s already calling in help—’

The text cut off once again. 

Even as they rushed past the burning remains of the house, even as they tracked the signal through the city and towards the more abandoned parts of town, Shiro didn’t send another.


	31. Day 31: Hero/Pain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Who likes suffering? We do! Who's ready for season 8? Not me! 
> 
> I told you guys I would finish before the last season! 
> 
> Thank you so much for reading this, I just keep rereading all your comments and they seriously make my day so much. You are all so amazing, and I'm so happy I got to share this with you.
> 
> On a side note, with he whole tumblr debacle, I can be found on twitter as @CheekieSquirrel. I am also on Pillowfort as thechildofstorms. the same name is my tumblr, too. I'd love to see all of you guys, and maybe there'll be more Sheith stuff someday!
> 
> Anyways, please enjoy. And thank you for sticking with me.

Day 31: Hero/ Pain

“Marriage is another name for compromise, tolerance, and understanding. Enjoy each other’s company, spend time together, laughing and share your emotions and feelings.”  
-Jacques Harland

July 21, 2018  
8:05 a.m.

-  
-  
-  
Three Hours Since Reconciliation 

Boosting the car was one of Shiro’s finest moments, Keith had to admit, but the finest was when he shoved the gun into Keith’s scrapped and bruised hands, trusting him even as they heard shouting from further down the street—demands of finding them as soon as possible.

He shot one in the head, making the already tense frame next to him recoil, before the car sputtered to life. With a quick lurch, he pushed Shiro in the passenger seat with the firearm before sliding across the hood and into the driver’s side. His hands stayed surprisingly steady as he launched the car back towards where the Galra had begun to rush in. 

The twin look of smug glee that mirrored his own gave such a boost into the adrenaline already coursing through him. Like they could finally share something. Wholly, completely. The glee made Shiro’s hands shake as he started texting, his shoulder bumping over and over again into the door as Keith careened them past five different corners. 

It was the sixth corner, the turn taken too sharp, too quickly, the window lining up too well, that the phone turned into the first causality. 

Keith watched from his peripheral as the screen shattered, pieces of glass ricocheting off the windshield and across Shiro’s face. Keith winced in sympathy as Shiro let out a low hiss, his teeth carving into his lips to stave off a cry of pain.

The hiss turned into a stream of low curses as he tossed the remains of the phone onto the ground, his eyes burning as he looked out towards to the now lagging car.

“What do you think the chances are of us changing the field?”

Keith grunted as another car knocked against their bumper, his grip almost frantic as he swerved to dodge a median. 

“Before or after the freeway?”

Another bullet, this time shattered through the back window.

“After? Come on now, Babe. I know you can lose them.” Keith almost hit another median as he felt fingers settle over his thigh, the grip almost kneading.

Keith couldn’t help the groan, “Is this for squeezing your knee earlier? I’m not sorry.”

Shiro only grinned, “Then we can both agree on that,” the grin shifted, his face more serious, “I almost lost you, we’re getting shot at… Can I have this?” Another swerve, before Keith had them up and over the onramp. 

He looked towards Shiro, eyes taking in the cuts dripping blood and the look of hesitance—of a worry that never should have been there. He swallowed hard, his throat dry and tensing almost to the point of pain.

“Now and always. Don’t—don’t act like this is going to kill us, Shiro.”

The look in Shiro’s eyes still swallowed all other emotions he tried and failed to express, but Keith pretended that Shiro meant it as he whispered back.

“Okay.”

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Five Hours Since Reconciliation  
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Shiro wasn’t sure if the warehouse was empty when they first arrived, but he was damn sure it was after the first two gunshots. 

Keith did it as a courtesy before Shiro could, the sound harsh as it echoed off of the banisters and bare walls, twisting between the rows upon rows before them. Keith had given him a single look after, his eyes offering the same promise as before, demanding that Shiro assure the same, before darting into one of the rows. Shiro did the same, forcing himself to venture in the opposite direction.

It was only after passing four more rows of some nameless stock that he heard more bodies enter the warehouse.

Each sound of a gunshot, echoing around and through him, set him more on edge. Knowing that Keith had the knife, that each sound could herald him or one of their enemies dying, it made each turn and movement stiff and unnatural. Made him wonder if he’d round a corner to see glazed purple eyes and an unmoving chest.

Another corner, a shot to the back of a Galra’s head. Dashing, twisting around so many corners he forgot to count them as feet thundered behind him turned into silence. 

Another corner, one more enemy. 

He lined up the next shot before jolting to a stop.

Blue eyes met his own, wide with the same rush of panic. Without a pause to recollect, Shiro pulled Lance towards him until they huddled beneath the nearest alcove. 

“When did you get here?” it was low, barely audible, but Lance seemed to hear it just fine.

“Around ten or so minutes after you stopped moving.”

Shiro looked away, peering out from their hiding space. Lance continued.

“We counted at least ten coming in, not counting the ones who arrived with you. Pidge is saying more may arrive.”

“We need to find Keith.”

Lance paused then, a nervous exhale escaping him, and Shiro couldn’t stop himself from focusing in on the movement.

“You got my text, right, about—”

Lance cut in, still refusing to meet Shiro’s gaze. “Just don’t worry about finishing it, okay Shiro? Let’s just focus on getting you out.”

Shiro shook his head, each wave bringing about an emerging unsteadiness that caught Shiro even more off guard. 

“No, we have to get to him, now. We split up, but I know he’s still standing.”

Lance’s voice rose, “Yeah, he split up from you, so he wouldn’t get killed on accident.”

“Damnit, that’s not it!” 

He could see how Lance feed from his burst of anger, how it ignited more from himself in turn, and try as he might he couldn’t push it back down.

“I don’t care if you all think he’s the threat, I was wrong! And I’m not about to let him die because of that.”

He watched as Lance rose to combat him yet again, and it took all that Shiro had to turn his fist into a singular finger jabbing against the other man’s chest.

“Either help me, or don’t.”

With one inhale of breath to the next, Shiro was back out into the rows, moving as fast as he could without making too much sound.

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Even though Keith didn’t like to always admit it, he was better at ambushing then a straight-out fight. 

The terrain turned into his own creation, each move and decision always to the detriment of whoever stood against him.

He took pride in that, in knowing that he couldn’t always use it to his advantage.

It all turned against him however, as he peered across one corner to see two figures facing the opposite way. He would have scoffed at how they moved in pairs, how anyone with any form of real field experience would know that was never a wise choice.

He would have, if not for the white hair that made the identity of the two so damn obvious.

Hunk stood at Allura’s left, and Keith had to pull back as he kept on glancing around before looking towards the corner Keith hid behind.

Fuck.

He went down another row, the pattern that he had slowly mapped out falling apart until each turn felt more and more alien and strange. 

In three corners, he made a Galra jump as much as he did, the brief flare of uncontrolled fear almost making the Galra faster.

He left that row with more blood on his knife, using a fast tiptoe to skirt down the entirety of the next. He felt the calm returning as he placed more distance, more opportunities of reaching Shiro again, and God he shouldn’t have moved away from him, he should have been just as stupid as Allura and Hunk.

Those thoughts fell blank as he stepped into the next row, a gun’s muzzle lining up neatly with his forehead.

Allura had seemed cold when he and Shiro had first announced their engagement, and it had just turned into a more lukewarm presence after moving into the house. 

Now, it was like none of that cordiality ever existed.

Hunk came to stand at her side, watching as Allura adjusted her grip.

“I shouldn’t have asked Shiro to deal with you. It was unfair.” It was a quiet reflection, demanding no response back.

The muzzle pressed farther into his skin, yet he couldn’t make himself take a step back.

“I’m just glad I was able to fix this before we lost him, too.”

From behind Allura’s head, he saw other figures passing by, their guns raising as they noticed them. He saw Hunk turning, his face growing slack with surprise. 

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Only a row down, Shiro heard a cacophony of gun shots.

Lance burst into a run first, taking aim just as he turned to see whatever was awaiting them. Shiro joined him as Lance finished off the last shot, saw the final solid thud of a body hitting the ground. Across those remains, he saw three others. Two just beginning to move.

Shiro wasn’t sure what he saw first as he quickly approached. He knew he for sure registered the white hair, his mind trying to wrap around the idea of Allura even being here. With Hunk. With a gun still in her hands, but all of that shattered as he saw the third try to move, a hand placed against the ground in a desperate attempt to rise up before falling.

Shiro had Keith in his arms before he could fail a second time.

It took too long for him to realize the internal chanting of ‘no’ now hovered in the air around him, his focus claimed by the spreading red encompassing all of Keith’s side.

“He pushed us away, why would he even—” Allura trailed off as she leaned back against the metal row, eyes forced to watch just as Shiro’s were. 

He heard Hunk try to respond, his words stopping before they could begin. He picked up barely a moment later.

“Pidge said more just arrived.”

Keith shuddered against Shiro, his hand moving to put pressure against his side even as it made him convulse. His voice rasped with more than the damage Shiro had caused before as the shuddering lessened.

“We—we just have to,” Shiro flinched as another cough was forced out, but forced himself to be still as Keith groaned with the jarring it caused. Keith continued, his words broken off, “help soon.”

Hunk groaned as he moved away, his gaze darting between Keith and Shiro before settling on Allura, “Great, now we have to deal with the Marmora.”

Keith looked like he wanted to reply, his head rolling up towards the others before another shudder hit him. It came as a surprise to Shiro when Allura finally spoke as she moved to stand. 

“Can you carry him, Shiro?”

Lance didn’t protest, staying as silent as Hunk now was as if their voices were stolen with Allura’s decision. Shiro lifted his husband from the ground, his arms trying to frame and support each bruise and cut the other was burdened with, trying to hold him together even though each passing moment made him doubt that it would even work. 

Even knowing that, he still made himself move. Each step causing wheezes and pants of pain from Keith.

It was another round of corners, almost five rows later and hearing the sound of rushing footsteps encircling them, knowing they had little elsewhere to go, when the three Voltron agents paused, theirs shoulders tensing almost in unison. 

“Marmora is here.” Lance muttered, his grip on his gun’s handle tightening.

The same nervousness resounded through Shiro, leaving his very bones exposed as he heard a rise of gunshots roar from around them. 

He and the others crouched down, and he shaped his body around Keith before pulling him in a close as he could.

He looked down at Keith when the movement was met with no complaint, hoping to see how he reacted, only for those bared bones to shrivel and crumble when he was only greeted with closed eyes.

Overhead, the gunshots finally ceased after persisting for so long.

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Nine Hours After Reconciliation  
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It was almost painful, taking in reality after.

Forcing eyes to open and register his surroundings, lights so bright and out of focus that he only wished to separate himself from it again and again until it would never come back.

He heard them around where he lay, footsteps and the sound of furniture moving and things falling maybe once or twice, but it was too easy to ignore when not even closed eyelids could keep the glare of the lights from tormenting him.

But, he tried once more, the light still burning, until he found that the more he forced himself to look, the less it hurt. 

It was as he gazed out, taking in the curtains that created a barrier between him and the others, that it returned to him. Viciously and sudden, of endless rows and the sound of gunshots, and warmth dripping onto him and over him—

Curling into himself for some form of protection was a mistake, his attempt staggering to a halt as fire flared through his side, only stopping when the mass he thought was only a cot below him moved to embrace his trembling frame.

Warm breath met below his ear, a hand wrapping against his own in an attempt to stop him from grasping his side. He couldn’t stop the gasped sob, and it only increased as words joined the warmth against him.

His crying didn’t grow, didn’t increase in noise or in the shuddering that his body would of, should of, produced if he wasn’t so tired. But they were joined with another’s, running onto his neck, against his check until his hair was damp.

Shiro held him so gently, more so than he ever had, even when they had flowed together so well before drifting apart. 

He felt this distance being seamed, merging together as Shiro held on and as Keith tried to reciprocate the same. His body refused to move, and Keith felt a brief annoyance as he settled on a fragile squeeze of Shiro’s hand instead.

Without a pause, Shiro responded with his own.

Keith sank in to that, even as his senses sharpened enough to discern between the voices nearby, the voices losing their bite slowly but surely as he faded in and out. 

Even as they changed, the hand holding his didn’t, pressing ever so often as if to remind Keith that he wouldn’t be left behind again.

Keith let sleep beckon him back once more with that in mind.

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Five Months After Reconciliation  
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Shay sat before them, pristine like every time Keith had seen her. Just like the living plants in her office that she somehow kept immaculate.

“So, I take it our previous session has helped quite a bit?”

Shiro answered first, reaching towards Keith’s hand. He didn’t hesitate to close the last distance between them.

“Well, we definitely share much more than we used to,” He looked over to Keith, a faint smile appearing, “Much more.”

Keith nodded, “It’s easier to accept last minute changes when I know the reasons why.” 

Shiro laughed at that, his grip tightening, “I don’t know about easier, but at least we can both agree to try more now.”

Shay nodded, the merriment between him and Shiro spreading even to her. 

“And have you begun to open up more to each other? Outside of work-related things?”

Keith watched as Shiro faltered, his hand moving to pull away before he forced it to stay.

It was a point of guilt, the brief hesitance it took before Keith gave a light squeeze, but he brushed it aside as he saw a small glimmer of hope changing into determination meet his own.

With looking at Shay, his eyes focused on the one thing that mattered the most, Keith answered for the both of them.

“I think we’re ready to.”


End file.
